


Mystery of the Star's Heart

by Taylor Dancinghands (tdancinghands)



Category: Adventures of Brisco County Jr., Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Legend (TV 1995), Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1, Wild Wild West (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Angst, F/M, Het and Slash, M/M, Multi, Romance, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 16:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 146,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/395845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tdancinghands/pseuds/Taylor%20Dancinghands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a bygone future that never was, the US Special Projects Bureau's Airship Daedalus carries an expedition to discover the fabled lost city of Atlantis.  The expedition's founder is the mysterious heiress Dr Elizabeth Weir, and she has gathered together the world's greatest luminaries (and fierce rivals), Dr Rodney McKay and Dr Radek Zelenka, along with disgraced, lighter-than-air cavalry pilot, Major John Sheppard, hapless but courageous medical researcher Dr Carson Beckett and ex-civil war officer Major Evan Lorne, among others.</p><p>Their journey will take them into the depths of the hollow Earth, where they will make new friends and combat new, ancient enemies, as well as familiar, modern ones. Together they will find joy and sorrow, love and friendship, and the adventure of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 'Endpapers' and Prologue

**Civilization stands on the cusp of a new era, and world renowned scientific rivals, Dr Rodney McKay and Dr Radek Zelenka have played a major role in bringing about this era. Now, mysterious heiress, Dr Elizabeth Weir wishes to bring them together for the first time, to join an expedition that may bring yet more astounding changes to the world.**

**With the help and personnel from the secretive US Special Projects Bureau, her expedition will travel, on the Airship Daedalus, piloted by maverick lighter-than-air cavalry officer John Sheppard, to the fabled lost city of Atlantis, which lies deep inside the hollow Earth. Danger and intrigue await them as agents of the Kaiser attempt to thwart their efforts before they've hardly begun, and other enemies, known and unknown lie in their path.**

**McKay and Zelenka will find friendship and more as they fight to survive, and to prevent a terrible, ancient enemy from escaping the world below to invade the world above. Sheppard will find an old love, then a new one and will, for a time, believe he has lost both; Weir will fulfill a destiny laid on her by her grandfather and find love in an unexpected place, and McKay will be reunited with his sister, who has chosen a path of isolation in a convent, but finds herself swept into to her brother's adventures in spite of her vows.**

**The crew of the Daedalus, the scientists of the SPB and the remarkable and courageous tribes people of the hollow Earth will strive together against ancient enemies and new ones and seek to plumb the Mystery of the Star's Heart.**

 

****

**_Prologue_ **

In those days it could be said that the whole world -the whole western world, at any rate- eagerly anticipated every new missive from Drs McKay and Zelenka. Any publication which might feature an article, paper or even an editorial from either of these two savants would be guaranteed to fly off the shelves the moment it was released, for people of all walks of life knew that their future might be written there.

Such writings contained more than material of technical interest, however. Many people were just as enchanted with the two scientists' ongoing feud as they were with their scientific revelations. Every breakthrough announced by McKay was certain to be followed by an excoriating criticism by Zelenka, and every new theory released by Zelenka was sure to be eviscerated by McKay. Indeed, the debate as to which scientist was the more brilliant was matched by the debate as to which had the most cutting wit.

Each scientist had their own followers and fans, and there were even times, when, lubricated with enough drink or aggravating circumstances, parties in opposing camps came to blows. Many were those, however, who forbore from speculating as to who was the more brilliant, but who expressed the opinion that, were the two scientists ever to join forces, then surely a new and even more miraculous era would come to pass.

But such a thing could never be, as it was well known by one and all that the two men detested each other. Furthermore, Zelenka was a world renowned recluse, and never left his isolated workshop and laboratories, located in the remote and mountainous land of eastern Bohemia. What was the point of wishing for such impossible things?

And yet, one day, there came one who did more than wish, and she was a woman who was not accustomed to taking 'no' for an answer. Dr Elizabeth Weir was just as well known for making the impossible possible as the two scientists she sought to recruit, and thus did she, and they, come to change the world.

****


	2. Chapter 1: In which two reluctant scientists are recruited

 

** Chapter 1 **

_**"Who were McKay and Zelenka?**_

**They say Babbage invented the first calculating machine, but McKay was the one who showed the world what could be done with them. Likewise, though Tesla first tamed electricity by invented alternating current, it was Zelenka who used this knowledge to make possible the electrification of all of Europe and the world."**

**  
**

**_-Dr Elizabeth Weir, Memoirs_**

**_  
_**

__

~~~~

 

_Bohemia, Austro-Hungarian Empire, Moravskoslezský kraj_

_  
_

It had taken the better part of the day for their little caravan of wagons, carts and riders to make their way up the long, winding mountain track and, bringing his own horse to a stop at the crest, Dr Peter Grodin gave a sigh of relief. There, visible just beyond the ridge, lay the old gamekeeper's lodge and the accompanying cluster of buildings and barns that was their goal, and not a bit too soon. The sun was slowly making its way towards the western horizon and Peter definitely didn't want to be caught out here in this remote and mountainous country after dark. It would be a chill, early spring night and local rumor had it that both vampires and werewolves might be encountered in these parts.

There was an inviting plume of smoke visible above the stone chimney attached to one end of the old wooden lodge, however, boding shelter for the night, warmth and hopefully food. That was, if this truly was the abode of the famously reclusive Dr Radek Zelenka, whom Peter Grodin had been sent to find. He'd been told that the Czech scientist would be expecting them, and the long wooden lodge with the stone tower adjoining it's western end matched the description he'd been given. He supposed it fell to him to approach and knock on the door.

Peter signalled to Major Lorne to hold his soldiers and the carters here -Zelenka was not the only one in these parts with a reasoned suspicion of soldiers- and rode down the track towards the compound. He dismounted at the gate and reached into his vest pocket for the letter of introduction he had from Dr Weir, folded together with the letter Zelenka had written confirming that he was expecting her emissaries.

It had taken over two years of correspondence before Zelenka had agreed even to allow visitors, and another six months before he would begin to entertain the notion that he _might_ be persueded to join her expedition. It was a mark of the great trust Dr Weir had in Peter that she'd sent him to close the deal, and bring Zelenka back with him, which was why had come prepared to carry so much baggage, and to defend it.

The wall which surrounded Zelenka's compound was foreboding, and the gate he passed through just as grand as the gate to any Bohemian chateau, but the wooden door on which he now knocked was as humble as that on any peasant cottage -sturdily built, but entirely unornamented.

The lad who answered the door clearly wasn't Zelenka, and probably didn't speak English, so Peter greeted him in German. This earned him a scowl and a perplexed look. Peter Grodin spoke a half dozen languages, but Czech wasn't one of them. He'd been able to get by with his German everywhere in Prague, but here in the eastern mountains of Bohemia German was the language of the aristocracy -and the oppressors. For a worrisome moment Peter thought he was going to have the door slammed in his face, but then the lad turned to shout, "Pane!" loudly over his shoulder.

Surely, Peter thought, that isn't the usual way a servant calls for his master, but Zelenka was a notoriously odd bird, so who knew how things stood between him and his servants.

"Moment," the boy said to him -which Peter did understand- and then promptly disappeared, leaving Peter standing at the open door with his letters in his hand and feeling like a dope. Fortunately he did not have to wait for long.

"Dobrý den?" said the small, rumpled and bespectacled man who appeared in the doorway now, and Peter realized that this must be Dr Zelenka.

"Guten tag... Herr Doktor Zelenka?" Peter began hesitantly, offering the letters. The man in the doorway looked down at them, then back up at Peter and pushed his glasses back up his nose.

"Aha," he said. "You must be the Americans, yes?" he asked, taking the proffered documents. "From Dr Weir?"

"Yes, exactly," Peter replied with great relief. "May I presume I have the honor of addressing Dr Radek Zelenka?"

"Ano," the man answered absently, scanning carefully through Peter's documents. Eventually he lifted his head to glance up at Peter, assessing with his gaze. "You are Dr Peter Grodin?" he asked directly.

"Yes, yes I am," Peter replied, offering a hand to shake. Zelenka hesitated for a fraction of a second, then took it, gripping it firmly.

"Tak, welcome to my home," Zelenka said when he had relinquished Peter's hand. "The boy, Honza, will see to your horse, if you have need?"

"Actually," Peter replied cautiously, "we have several horses, a pair of oxen, and a small military escort -who would be perfectly content to sleep in a barn, assuming you had such?"

Zelenka's eyebrows raised above the rims of his glasses, but he did not seem displeased, to Peter's great relief. "Dr Weir said she would assure my safety on any voyage," he remarked. "I confess I had not expected her to take my circumstances so seriously."

"I promise you," Peter said sincerely. "She does most adamantly, as do I, and neither of us wants you or your work to fall into the hands of the Kaiser."

Zelenka's gaze was assessing, and Peter did not shrink before the intensity of his scrutiny. "My own government tells me that my concerns are unfounded," he said. "Do you truly believe they are mistaken or am I being... humored."

Peter drew a considering breath and remembered that besides being a genius inventor, Zelenka was said to be a world class chess master. He knew he was being courted, and what that might entail.

"Not to speak ill of the Imperial House of Hapsburg," Peter said, mustering all the diplomatic skills he had learned at Dr Weir's side, "but we are not the only ones to believe that your government has, perhaps, misapprehended the current fraught climate in Europe. We believe it far wiser, and not so very costly in the end, to be more cautious."

Zelenka nodded, seeming satisfied. "You have done your research, as have I," he said. "I have found no one who would speak ill of Dr Weir, nor do any name her either unscrupulous or naive. In addition, she would appear to have chosen a well spoken and courteous emissary." Now Zelenka offered him a bright, almost playful smile and Peter could not help but return it.

"Thank you sir," he said. "I know she placed great trust in me, in sending me here, and I will do my utmost to be worthy of her, and your trust."

"You will call me Radek, please," Zelenka replied, then turned to pull a rope by the door which sounded several bells around the compound. "If you will bring your party through the gate, my housekeepers will see to their needs. I will inform Hanka that she must stretch the goulash to feed... how many?"

"We have in our party myself, Major Lorne, twelve marines and three carters," Peter replied. "And you must call me Peter. Have you accommodation for so many?"

There was, indeed a barn, though these days it housed machines rather than animals, ("I doubt the marines will complain at trading the smell of cow dung for the smell of kerosene and machine oil," Peter had commented,) and there was a guest room in the main house, if Peter and Lorne did not mind sharing a bed -which they didn't.

Zelenka pointed out the location of his barn and then they parted company -the scientist to prepare accommodations and Peter to gather his escort and bring them into the compound. The day's light was failing fast as Peter brought his horses, wagons and soldiers to Zelenka's cavernous barn, and it was full on dark by the time he got them all settled. The sight of Zelenka, waiting just outside the barn and holding a lantern to escort himself and Lorne back to the main house was a welcome one indeed.

"I have convinced Hanka to sacrifice a rabbit for our dinner," Zelenka said as he lead them inside. "It is quite a rare thing that I should have company for an evening and I am quite looking forward to it."

"It's quite a rare privilege to be invited to share your company," Peter said diplomatically. "The Major and I are quite honored."

"No doubt," Zelenka said with a wry smile, and then, "You wouldn't, either one of you, happen to play chess, would you?"

**

The chess board came out after dinner. It had been a delicious meal of rabbit roasted with plums and served over slices of something bread-like that Zelenka insisted wasn't bread. After the food there was coffee and a dangerously smooth and potent Slivovitz which Zelenka poured from an unlabeled bottle.

Lorne, the coward, made his escape on the pretext of checking on his men and sharing some of the liquor with them, leaving Peter as the lone victim of Zelenka's noteworthy chess prowess. Peter was a relatively skilled player, but at the end of a long day, filled with rich food and lubricated with Zelenka's liquor, he knew he would be no match of the Czech chess master -especially when Zelenka began to grill him about the expedition over their game.

"So, I understand that the purpose of this expedition is to find an undiscovered site of the Ancient Ones," he said, having taken yet another one of Peter's pawns. "Though I myself am not entirely convinced that these Ancient Ones even existed. I trust that you will be able, now, to shed more light on the subject?"

"Yes indeed," Peter replied, trying to make a move that would not have him checkmated in short order. "She sent you Dr Jackson's book on "Eldritch Tales and Lore of the Goa'uld", yes?"

"She did," Zelenka confirmed, "and while I have not read it all, I did read the tale she thought the most important, of the Star People. I take it I am to understand from this that she believes these Star People that the Goa'uld speak of are in fact the Ancient Ones, but what of the 'Winged Evil' they supposedly released? And if they and their ancient enemies all disappeared utterly, how are we to find any trace of them?"

"Ah well," Peter said, futilely attempting to capture one of Zelenka's pawns. "The Goa'uld, it turns out, have found abundant traces of the Ancient Ones, which they've either reverse engineered and claimed as theri own, or just hoarded it, in their nests. Unfortunately for them, they never learned to access what could be found in the their data crystals, nor did they know how to read the language of the Ancient Ones. Dr Jackson and Dr Weir managed to decode this language some years ago, and from the contents of these data crystals, learned the location of what might have been the Ancient Ones' last outpost, in Antarctica."

In truth, the Goa'uld had had no idea what to do with most of what they'd stolen from the Ancient Ones so long ago but, having stolen it back from the Goa'uld, the SPB, with the assistance of the brilliant if irascible Dr McKay, had made great progress, including the discovery of a healing device which only worked for one man, who fortunately happened to be a doctor for the SPB.

"Antactica?" Zelenka said, easily avoiding Peter's feeble strategy. "I hope you are not expecting me to accompany you there."

"Indeed not," Peter said. "We've already been; the SPB sent a small expedition with the Airship Apollo not quite two years ago, and found even more than we'd hoped for." And much that was unexpected. Their doctor, a Scotsman named Carson Beckett, had already worked out by then that much of the Ancient Ones' technology only worked for certain people. He'd been just as astonished as everyone else, however, when a disgraced former lighter-than-air cavalry officer, who'd signed on as the Apollo's Sailing Master's Mate, walked into a chamber filled with Ancient One tech and made half of it light up, just by his mere presence.

"Including some indication of where they'd gone?" Zelenka asked intelligently, even as he took one of Peter's knights.

"Precisely," Peter replied, shifting his strategy from one of conquest to one of damage control. He could really only hope to prolong the game, but it suited his ends to do so at any rate.

"These are significant developments, about which I have heard nothing," Zelenka commented, frowning over Peter's change in strategy. "Why is that?"

"Dr Weir has insisted from the beginning that any discoveries we make regarding the Ancient Ones be kept in strictest secrecy," Peter replied, "And the Bureau agrees with her. I'm sure you can see why, what with the potential of new and powerful -or dangerous- technologies being discovered. Dr Weir dared not commit any of it to paper in writing you; given the... state of affairs in these parts."

"Samozřejmě," Zelenka said, blowing out a sigh and taking Peter's last rook. "But you will keep nothing from me now, yes?"

"Everything I know, you may know," Peter said, "and Dr Weir has seen to it that I've been briefed on all aspects of the expedition and our current researches."

"Excellent," the scientist said, sitting back in his chair as he waited for Peter to make his move. "So you may tell me what you learned of the fate of the Ancient Ones?"

"Indeed I can," Peter said, feeling much more confident about his larger mission than this chess game, but that was fine. "The chronicles we've been translating tell first of the error the Ancient Ones made, and of their arrogance in delving too deeply into the Earth after its riches. It was from those depths that the Winged Evil came to be released, and all the world suffered for it."

"It would seem that these Ancient Ones had much to answer for," Zelenka said, leaning forward to examine the board once Peter had made his move.

"I thought the same," Peter replied honestly, "and I am happy to tell you that the Ancient Ones -most of them at any rate- thought so as well. For this reason they spent the next several millennia fighting to undo what they had done -to make amends. In the end they found that it was beyond their power to destroy the Winged Evil utterly, and so they did the only thing they could, and pursued the creatures back to the depths which spawned them. There they would take up station at the entrance from which they first escaped, and remain there until the danger had passed, for however long it might take."

"A noble intention," Zelenka said. "Did they succeed?"

"In as much as this Winged Evil would seem to be unknown to us and our ancestors, I would say yes," Peter replied. "But as to whether they carried out their plan as described, we have no idea. A principle goal of this expedition would be to discover the truth in this matter."

"Of course," Zelenka said with a nod, seizing another of Peter's pieces. "And what would be its other goals?"

"Well, Dr Jackson believes that there may be an entire city down there," Peter said. "He is convinced that this is the origin of the legends of the lost city of Atlantis -the city which sank beneath the sea."

"Atlantis?" Zelenka said with a chuckle. "That is a bit difficult to believe."

"I know, I know," Peter replied sincerely. "But if you are familiar with Dr Jackson's work, you know that he often says things that no one believes, which later turn out to be true."

"No jo, it is as you say," Zelenka commented with a slow, considering nod. "What it could mean if it is true..."

"If it is true, then somewhere within the hollow Earth there lies an ancient city filled with undreamed of technology and knowledge that could change the world, or destroy it." Peter said solemnly. "It may even still be inhabited by the descendants of the Ancient Ones, and what we could learn from them..." Peter shook his head. "It boggles the mind."

"That is does," Zelenka said and then, "and check."

"Ah," said Peter, gazing at the chessboard to see if he could prolong his defeat a bit longer.

"So," Radek said after a moment. "You plan, with this expedition, to enter the Earth -the hollow Earth, whom many believe does not exist- and find this city -who many also believe does not exist?"

"That is our plan precisely," Peter said, still trying to figure out how to get himself out of check for more than a couple of moves.

"And you know where to enter this 'Hollow Earth'?" Zelenka asked.

"According to the data we've translated," Peter said, "the Ancient Ones created an island, and an opening, over the northern mid-Atlantic, a little ways south of Iceland. Our biggest concern, at first, was that -since the area is quite volcanically active- this opening might have closed or been destroyed, but a scout we sent last month confirms that an opening remains as it is described in the Ancient Ones' chronicles."

"Tak, so," Zelenka said, polishing his glasses. "You have an entrance into the Hollow Earth and some evidence that there is a city, or at least a significant base therein, which was created for the purpose of fighting a war against a powerful enemy. You expect to find much there in the way of weaponry and such, I suppose?"

"Among other things," Peter said, hazarding a move at last.

"Hmm," Zelenka considered. "It is, in truth, very tempting, but, as Dr Weir knows, and you most likely do as well, I have long ago had my fill of war machines."

"Of course," Peter said, trying to keep his voice from showing his worry that Zelenka was going to slip through his fingers even now. "And the Ancient Ones expressed similar sentiments, you may be interested in knowing. This is what I would have you consider, however. First, if we thought there was nothing to find in the Hollow Earth but weapons, we would seek only to close that opening, sealing it for all eternity, but this we do not believe is the case. Second, you must know as well as I that many advances which have been made for the betterment of mankind have been turned to less than peaceful purpose. Yet you would hardly advocate for the banishment of electricity or steam power from our world. The good they do still outweighs the harm for which they may be employed."

"This is true enough," Zelenka said, taking Peter's last knight and closing in on his queen. "So tell me what further inducement you have for me -as I am quite certain that I have not yet heard everything."

"Well, you are not wrong in that," Peter said with a chuckle. "For I have not even begun to tell you about the expedition's airship -the Daedalus."

"Indeed you have not," said Zelenka. "It is something new, I suppose?"

"The very newest experimental airship from the US Special Projects Bureau," Peter replied. "And while it is not the largest airship ever built, it may be the fastest and most powerful. In addition, because most of newest features remain classified, the technical specs for McKay's new 'thermal exchange engine' -which drives the Daedalus' propulsion, among other things, will not be publicly available for some time."

"Now you are most definitely tempting me," Zelenka said with a smile. "Should I be concerned that I may be taking my life in my hands?"

"Because of McKay's new engine?" Peter asked, succumbing to full on retreat on the chess board. "It's not the prototype, if that's what you mean. That's in the Boston lab, and it hasn't exploded yet, as far as I know. The one on the Daedalus will be his second."

"That is encouraging," Zelenka said. "And even so, I am certain I would have no difficulty locating numerous design flaws. I have never seen any new creation of McKay's that was not riddled with them."

"And would it be worth it to you," Peter pressed, "enough to go on this expedition, for the chance to observe and document these many design flaws yourself?"

Zelenka blew out a long breath, casually removing another one of Peter's pieces while closing in on his king. "You tempt me sorely," he said, sounding honestly sorry, "but it is still not enough."

"And if," Peter said, absently moving one of his pieces, knowing that the outcome of this game was entirely unimportant. "If you could report your findings to Dr McKay himself -right there on the Daedalus- would that make it enough?"

"Well, of course," Zelenka began. "But Dr McKay would never agree to such..." he trailed to a stop when he saw Peter's earnest and serious expression.

"Surely..." Zelenka said, voice hushed with amazement. "Surely it is not possible..."

"Dr Weir is quite determined to have you both," Peter said, "and she is not, as you know, a woman to be trifled with."

"And by what inducement could she lure McKay away from his precious labs?" Zelenka asked, still incredulous. "What could she possibly offer him?"

"Well, the chance to go on the first cruise of the Daedalus, with his new engines and a number of other innovations of his design," Peter replied. "That is a considerable draw, but what will tip the balance, I am sure, is if she can promise that you will be there as well."

Zelenka sat back suddenly, then removed his glasses to scrub at his eyes. "You sir," he said, pointing at Peter with an earpiece, "should be a much better chess player than you demonstrate from this game."

Peter smiled broadly. "It might be that I was rather more focused on my conversational strategy than on the game," he said.

"Well, perhaps it is for the best, as I am allowed some consolation for my ego," Zelenka said, replacing his glasses and making a move. "I will have you checkmated in two moves, so it takes some the sting out of my conceding to you -and to Dr Weir. You have me. The very fact that, by agreeing to go on this expedition, I will force McKay either to go, or to look a complete coward, compels me to accept."

Peter could not help laughing out loud, with relief as well as humor. "Shall I concede myself, then?" he asked. "Or would you prefer to defeat me utterly?"

"Ne, ne," Zelenka said good naturedly. "I believe we may be done with strategies for tonight. We must instead drink to our new venture and prepare ourselves for a long and busy day tomorrow."

Peter nodded, helping the scientist strike the chess set as Zelenka refilled their glasses with the clear and potent liquor he'd been sharing with them all evening. "To the Atlantis Expedition," Zelenka said when the game was cleared away and they each held a filled glass. "Na zdravi!"

Peter clinked his glass against Zelenka's and drank, shuddering against the liquor's fire, then heard Lorne's voice from the kitchen, answering their toast. "To the Atlantis Expedition! Do we have a new member?"

"We do indeed," Peter replied as Lorne entered the room. He had straw on his jacket and had a bit of a flush to his cheeks. "And we will have full day's work ahead of us. Will you and your men be fit for an early morning?"

"Of course," Lorne said, allaying Peter's fears. "We only had one bottle share among fifteen men and myself, and though it was certainly strong stuff, none of these men will dare to say a word of complaint if they're too hung over to work in the morning."

"Fair enough," Peter replied, deciding that Lorne likely knew what he was talking about. "But we really ought to retire soon, I think."

"I agree," Zelenka said. "We have much to make ready, all of us."

That was certainly true, Peter thought as he dressed and settled himself for bed, even if many preparations had been made already. There were two barges waiting for them in Bratislava, which would carry them down the Danube to the Black Sea, and another ship contracted to deliver them across the Black Sea to Istanbul, where a steam freighter, privately owned by some friend of Dr Weir's, would take them through the Mediterranean and across the Atlantic, to Boston.

The journey would not be without peril. Peter knew Dr Zelenka's personal history quite well, and knew that the man had good reason to fear for his safety. Many were the great powers who would not hesitate at spilling blood to get their hands on Zelenka or his machines, and Peter was charged with seeing the man, and his devices, safely to America. It was no small burden and the fact that Zelenka had decided to place his trust in Peter was flattering, but not at all conducive to a good night's sleep.

Lorne, of course, was unconscious and snoring the minute he lay down on the bed, as soldiers seemed to have the trick of doing when needed, but Peter was no soldier. For long hours that night Dr Peter Grodin lay sleepless beside the military man, plagued by the weight of his responsibilities, until exhaustion claimed him at last. He would wake in the morning clear-headed, however, with his many tasks well ordered in his mind.

He would prove himself worthy of the great responsibility placed upon him, he determined, and would deliver his scientist and his goods as instructed. Peter did have this trick: he would not allow for any other outcome.

***

_USA, Boston, Massachusetts; Special Projects Bureau secret labs_

"Dr McKay, you promised me exactly one half hour of your _undivided_ time, and I _will_ have it, no matter how long I have to wait here."

Dr Elizabeth Weir stood over the desk of the smartest man in North America -possibly in the world- and refused to be intimidated by his rudeness. It wasn't the fist time she'd gone head to head with the man, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last, but it was never easy.

"And you promised me," the scientist said, still not looking up from the circuit board he was supposedly working on, "that you'd be presenting me with something actually worth my undivided time, which you have failed, so far, to do."

"You have not heard nearly enough of my proposal to know _whether_ it is worth your time, sir," she said. "And I will insist that you hear it all."

"I _have_ heard enough!" McKay said, slamming the circuit board down on his desk. "In fact, I've heard it all before. You want me to go on this ridiculous expedition of yours. You want me to believe that the opportunities which await me on this foolhardy mission consist of more than the opportunity to die in any number of new and unexpected ways. Forgive me if I find myself sceptical, in the extreme."

"I neither know nor care, Doctor, what you believe," Elizabeth said evenly. "What concerns me is what you know and, more importantly, what you don't know."

"Oh, and what is it that I _don't_ know, Dr Weir?" McKay replied acidly, returning to focus on the circuit board even as he asked the question. Elizabeth mastered the temptation to rip the thing out of his hands.

"What you don't know," she said, patience thinning, "is anything about my expedition save for the fact that we'll be travelling on the Daedalus. I'd be happy to tell you, but not while your attention is elsewhere."

"You would appear to be under the misapprehension that there is anything that goes on in the Special Projects Bureau that I am unaware of, Doctor," McKay said mildly as he continued to work. "I am aware that your expedition's destination is the North Sea, where you believe you will find an entrance into the hollow Earth, and if that wasn't preposterous enough, you seem to actually believe that you will find the legendary 'Lost City of Atlantis' within. Now given the purview and history of the SPB, I should not entirely dismiss the possibility of any of these things, but having also seen the evidence upon which you have based your suppositions... well let's just say that I'm not surprised that you've had to find private funding."

Elizabeth let out a breath and carefully hid her disappointment. She would do well to remember that Dr McKay really was a genius, and that he did like to keep abreast of all the research going on at the SPB. Director West had told her as much when she'd asked his permission to borrow McKay. Still, there was one bit of information McKay didn't know, and it was the one she'd been saving for last -her big gun.

"I see you have kept informed," she said, letting a little of her disappointment show now, so as to disarm him. "So you probably know who else has agreed to join as leading science personnel?"

"Mmm..." McKay said thoughtfully, and now Elizabeth could see that his focus on the circuit board was a pretense. He wasn't actually doing anything to it at all. "I haven't actually heard," he continued thoughtfully, "but it isn't hard to guess. I suppose you've managed to sign that crank from Nebraska... or was it Kansas... Wickwire?"

Elizabeth smiled at the memory of the ebullient professor. "No," she replied, "though I'm sure he'd be thrilled to come along, I'm really looking for a scientist of higher caliber."

"Ah, so you've gotten that Hungarian," McKay said, "from Colorado? Cartok? Martok?"  
Elizabeth laughed. "Janos Bartok, and no. I really do want only the best of the best, and I'm not restraining my search to this continent." Now she had him, for McKay actually put down his circuit board and sat back, looking up at Elizabeth as he puzzled it out.  


"Huh," he said. "It can't be any of Magnus' bunch in London, they never work with anyone else, and besides, the best of that bunch, Tesla, has been missing for over a year. There hasn't been any original thought out of France or Germany in over a decade, and it won't be anyone I haven't heard of, because if they were any good I would have heard of them..."

"You're right about that," Elizabeth concurred, pleased at McKay's puzzlement. "You've definitely heard of him."

Now McKay's eyes narrowed as he turned to stare at her. "You can't be serious," he said, but Elizabeth was already extracting a sheaf of telegrams from her valise. She dropped them casually on McKay's desk and he grabbed them up impatiently.

"'Bratislava'," he read. "'Arrived yesterday with passenger. Stop. All personnel and cargo embarked safely. Stop. Next missive from Budapest. Stop. PG." He picked up the next and read further, "'Arrived safely Budapest. Stop. All personnel satisfied with arrangements so far. Stop. PG.'" He paused briefly to throw a jaundiced eye at Elizabeth, then continued with another.

"'Novy Sad. Stop. Repelled attempted raid at Croatian border. Stop. Passenger remains secure. Stop. Next missive Belgrade. Stop.'"

He began to leaf through the stack then, reading only the city of origin on each. "Belgrade... Vidin... Giurgiu... Constanta... Istanbul..." McKay slowly put down the stack of telegrams and fixed his unwavering gaze upon Elizabeth.

"Am I meant to understand from this," he said, clearly incredulous, "that you are transporting Dr Radek Zelenka to Boston, to take part in this absurd expedition of yours? Dr Weir, you cannot possibly expect me to believe that he actually agreed to come here, when he hasn't left his little cave, or wherever he's been hiding out, in decades?"

"You may believe what you like," Elizabeth said smugly. "And you can see for yourself when he arrives in Boston at the end of next month."

"But..." McKay seemed clearly to be struggling with the concept. "The man's a recluse... and a paranoid. What in God's name could have induced him to take such risks?"

"Well," Elizabeth said a little coyly, seeing her quarry falling into position at last. "He's only had access to what's been published up to now, so the information Dr Grodin brought, about the Ancient Ones and our discoveries of their technology, is all new to him. He may find the chance to discover some for himself incentive enough, but I suspect it was the news that you might also be joining the expedition that served as the most powerful inducement."

"You told him that _I_ was joining the expedition?" McKay said, bristling with outrage.

"I told him you'd been invited," Elizabeth replied, unruffled. "I imagine he worked out for himself that if he came and you didn't... well, the press might have quite a lot to say on the subject."

For a long moment McKay sat, all but quivering in infuriated silence, then stood abruptly, pointing an accusing finger at Elizabeth. "This is blackmail, pure and simple Dr Weir, and I am shocked that you would stoop so low!"

Elizabeth shrugged, not the least offended. "It's merely the price of fame Doctor," she said. "As much as you've enjoyed being in the public eye in the past, I assumed you knew there would eventually be some price to pay. There always is."

"And I see you haven't hesitated to take advantage of the fact!" McKay accused. Elizabeth could not help laughing at McKay's self righteous pose.

"If you are trying to shame me, Doctor, I'm afraid you'll have no success," she said with a smile. "It's been said often enough that I have no shame, and in this regard they are not wrong. I'll have only the best on this expedition, and I'll not hesitate to do what I have to, to get the people I want."

For several long seconds Dr Mckay stood before her, silently trembling with impotent rage, and then he deflated a little. "You..." he sputtered a moment later, "You could have at least told _me_ first."

Elizabeth took pity on him and refrained from laughing. "Doctor Zelenka has a considerably longer journey, and required some advance time," she pointed out sensibly, then added, as a generous sop to his ego, "Also, we considered that he would probably be rather more... tractable than you would have been."

"Well," he replied, lifting his chin haughtily, "I suppose I'm rather less pliable than the average moron, even Zelenka."

"Precisely," Elizabeth said with a smile. "Now I'll need your signature on a few documents, and I can give you an official copy of the mission briefing..."

Elizabeth relaxed as she gave McKay the same introductory run-down she'd already given half a dozen other scientists and soldiers from the SPB. Other than seeing Zelenka and Grodin the rest of the way across the Atlantic, getting McKay was the last critical step in the completion of her expedition, and Elizabeth was well satisfied. It would be a few weeks yet before Zelenka arrived, and while the time might have seemed long to some, she had a multitude of tasks to keep her busy, as did McKay.

The time would fly in the weeks that followed, until the day came that Elizabeth received the telegram she'd been waiting for from Peter Grodin. He and Dr Zelenka, and a whole cargo hold filled with amazing and mysterious machines would be arriving in Boston Harbour tomorrow.

 

***

_USA, Mystic Connecticut, Enders Island Experimental Airship Yards_

Rodney McKay turned up the collar of his overcoat and hunched his shoulders against the stiff, chill ocean breeze. It was ostensibly summer, but here on this spit of land extending out into the sound, the wind was never still, and never warm. Still, at least it was blowing from the east and not the north, carrying the godawful stench of Mystic Harbour's whale oil rendering yards with it.

Rodney took some satisfaction in contemplating the possibility that his work might play a part in rendering those yards and their foul work obsolete, as he found more and more ways to use the mineral oil, petroleum, which was being found in such great abundance in western Pennsylvania just now. His new heat exchange, supercharging steam engine, for instance, was designed to be fueled by it, although he'd made it possible to be operated with coal and wood as well, since flexibility was bound to be a plus for the Daedalus.

He tended not to voice his opinions about the whaling yards where the locals here could hear it, as he'd learned that they tended to see this possible development -with typical short sightedness- as bringing an end to much of the prosperity of their town. Well their bad luck was Petroleum Center, Pennsylvania's good luck, and there was no stopping the future, especially when the future had Rodney McKay behind it. He didn't figure that the whales would mind either.

Turning his back to the prevailing wind, Rodney extracted his pocket watch to check the time again. He'd been told that Dr Weir would be coming today, bringing the famously reclusive Dr Radek Zelenka with her, and was expected to arrive around noon. It was a quarter past now, and Rodney's theory that the whole thing was a ruse to get him to sign on to her expedition was gaining credulity in his mind. Really, it was absurd to think that his long time rival could actually have been induced to make such a lengthy and perilous journey, and he looked forward to rubbing Dr Weir's nose in her fabulous lie the moment it was revealed.

Even as he was composing his indignant and outraged speech, however, Rodney heard the distant hissing chug of an approaching steam coach, and glanced past the mooring mast he stood at the base of, toward the long causeway that lead to the Airfield. There, Rodney could now see the sunlight glint on the chrome of a vehicle, and the silhouette of others -two freight carts drawn by a steam tractor- following in its wake.

This must surely be Weir, accompanying Zelenka and his equipment, as advertised. Rodney did feel a moment of disappointment that he would not be catching Weir in a lie, but mostly (he had to admit to himself) he could not help the intense, curious excitement he felt at the prospect of actually meeting his long time rival face to face. Truth be told, Zelenka was brilliant -at least on paper. Rodney would never have bothered with him otherwise, and Rodney could count on the fingers of one hand the people he knew of who even came close to the sort of brilliance which merited his notice. He was looking forward to meeting the man, therefor, and also pleased at the occasion. Today was the day that the Daedalus would have her first test lift -in fact, Rodney expected the mechanical roof of the great airship hanger, dominating the landscape here on the treeless island, to begin opening any minute now.

The ship itself wasn't Rodney's design, of course -he was a scientist, not a shipwright- but many of her most advanced new features were entirely of Rodney's invention. He was particularly looking forward to rubbing Zelenka's nose in these new devices and systems, as the Czech was always poking holes in Rodney's inventions, on paper, but now he would be able to show them working perfectly, just as he had deigned them. Zelenka would have a far more difficult time maintaining that Rodney's inventions couldn't work, when they could be seen to be working, right before his eyes.

It was only a few minutes before the chugging, steaming procession pulled up to where Rodney stood and came to a hissing stop. Striding forward to meet them, Rodney saw Dr Weir exit the lead car first, immaculately dressed as usual in the latest fashion. She stood by the car, lifting a hand to hold her hat in place lest a gust of wind take it, and a moment later the rear door of the steam coach opened and a figure emerged.

Rodney had always imagined Zelenka to be some large, mustachioed, slightly rotund, Germanic looking fellow, but the slightly built man straightening as he stepped out of the coach looked nothing like that. He was short, bespectacled, and his hair -until he reached back into the coach for a Tyrolean sort of hat which he promptly clapped on his head- blew every which way in the wind. He was clean shaven, and his manner almost furtive as he glanced around at the choppy sea on the horizon, at the mooring mast, McKay, the hanger and back out at the sea.

"Dr McKay," Dr Weir stepped forward, extending one hand to indicate her travelling companion while the other continued to secure her hat. "Allow me the pleasure of introducing Dr Radek Zelenka. Dr Zelenka, Dr Rodney McKay."

"Dr McKay," Zelenka put his hand forward immediately. "It is indeed a great honor and pleasure to meet you at last," he said with a smile. The smile transformed his face, Rodney could not help but note, drawing his attention to his sparkling, pale blue eyes, framed by deep laugh lines. Rodney'd always heard that Bohemians were a dour, pessimistic people, but this man seemed veritably impish when he smiled.

"Likewise, I'm sure," Rodney replied, recollecting himself and returning the handshake. "And your timing is excellent. Couldn't be better, in fact."

"It is?" Zelenka asked. He speech was accented, but not too thickly, which Rodney was relieved to hear. If he was going to work with Zelenka, then his speech was going to have to be understandable.

"I was told we were coming here to see the new airship -the Daedalus," Zelenka continued, looking confused and also a touch uneasy. "Will we go inside now?"

"Actually, the best view will be from here," Dr Weir explained. "And Dr McKay is correct, our timing is perfect. See, the roof is just opening."

"Oh!" Zelenka said, gaze following her outstretched arm to where the mansard roof of the airship hanger was beginning to fold back and away, leaving the space open to the sky. They'd begun filling the massive, primary lift vessel with helium before McKay had come out here to wait, and now it was finally revealed, like a giant, elongated, sliver Easter egg, from the hanger below.

The Czech scientist murmured a soft exclamation in his mother tongue as the vessel lifted higher, becoming nearly fully inflated. It paused as it came clear of the roof line and Rodney saw all the stays become taught as the lift vessel came to pull against the inertia of the ship itself. It strained for a second or two, then swayed a bit and recommenced rising, and Rodney knew that the Daedalus had, at last, been lifted clear of the cradle which had supported her during her construction.

Triumphant shouts and cheers could be faintly heard from inside the distant hanger as the airship continued to rise and the first bits of the ship began to become visible above the hanger roof. Rodney also thought he heard the sound of a door on the steam coach being slammed shut, but he paid it no mind. He had eyes only for the Daedalus and what she would do next, which directly involved some of the systems Rodney had put in place.

He felt his breath catch in his throat as the sleek wooden form of the Daedalus proper became fully visible as she rose majestically from the depths of the hanger. Now, as Rodney watched, the bowsprit began to extend to its full length, taking the last of the slack out of the bow stays, and the beam struts began to slowly unfold, extending themselves on either side of the ship like a dancer gracefully extending her arms.

The beam struts and their mechanics had been one of the more pivotal of Rodney's contributions to the Daedalus, and something of an innovation, as were the pair of stabilizing lift vessels which would soon be suspended above each strut. Rodney held his breath as both pairs of vessels were deployed and began to inflate in tandem, and then he let his breath out as he saw that they -and the Daedalus- remained perfectly balanced throughout.

Last of all, with all her stays taught and all her struts and spars extended, a pair of flags were hoisted on the main bow stay: the American flag with its circle of stars and red and white stripes, and below it, the SPB's map of the world surrounded by five pointed elder signs. This was something cooked up by the voodoo practitioners in the Esoteric Matters department, and while Rodney had as much respect for the august Artemus Gordon as anyone (he'd certainly managed to hold on to his sanity longer than many in his department) what they did there had nothing to do with science and Rodney strongly preferred to have no part in it.

Zelenka gave another enthusiastic cry in Czech, actually clapping his hands together like an excited child. In all fairness, Rodney couldn't fault him, and might have done the same himself, but then another, unexpected voice intruded.

"Assuming that's a positive response, Dr Zelenka, I'm with you, one hundred percent."

"Sheppard?" Rodney turned to face the origin of the voice. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I've signed him on as Expedition Pilot," Dr Weir explained for him.

"Expedition pilot?" Rodney squawked. "But... the Daedalus has her own pilots... why would the expedition need..."

"Oh! What are those?" Zelenka interrupted, pointing up at the airship.

"What?" Rodney immediately forgot his complaint and looked where Zelenka was pointing. "Oh, they're deploying the maneuvering screws! Excellent!" From a recess in each beam strut a small propeller was now emerging and a moment later they began turning. The Daedalus responded beautifully, backing and turning in place as the two screws operated independently at the behest of whoever was controlling them -probably Captain Caldwell himself.

"She'll turn on a dime, even when moving forward at full speed," Rodney explained proudly. "Just another one of my personal innovations."

"And what other brilliant innovations of yours may I look forward to finding on this ship?" Zelenka asked.

"Well, let's see," Rodney began, much too pleased with the moment to take note of the hint of sarcasm in Zelenka's question. "The Daedalus' biggest innovation is the all electronic control system, for the gas and pressure regulation, and ship wide anti-ballast systems. Shipboard lights are also all electrical, which reduces fire danger considerably and eliminates the need to carry hundreds of pounds of lamp oil."

"These are most certainly marvelous innovations," Zelenka agreed, "but surely you must now carry a considerable weight in Leyden jars, yes?"

"Well, of course," Rodney snapped. "They double as ballast along the keel, along with the ship's drinking water reservoirs. And before you ask, the stabilizing screws also serve as wind generators to recharge the Leyden jar batteries when needed."

"Very elegant," Zelenka replied. "And when there is no wind, such as might be expected in our subterranean destination?"

"Then there are backups!" McKay snapped, altogether disgruntled that his moment of glory was being picked to death only moments after the Daedalus's launch. "For pete's sake, is it not possible for you to assume that I have one shred of intelligence?"

"No, it is not, Dr McKay," Zelenka said with an amused grin. "And if you were about to put your life in the hands of one of my inventions, I doubt you would be any different."

Yes, Rodney thought to himself, but that's because I am an actual genius, whereas you are merely a highly effective engineer, but he refrained from speaking it. Dr Weir had taken pains to remind him that Dr Zelenka was their guest, and as such was to be accorded something like hospitality, at least at first. Instead, Rodney only grumbled something under his breath and turned accusingly to Sheppard.

"And you," he said. "What on earth are you going to pilot for us, seeing as the expedition doesn't actually have a ship other than the Daedalus?" Elizabeth answered for him.

"Well, we have no idea what we'll find, where we're going," she intercepted smoothly. "And it's entirely possible that the Ancient Ones left ships which we'd need a pilot to operate. It is, however, his other asset that make him vital for this expedition, Rodney, as you know perfectly well."

"We've already got Beckett," Rodney pointed out. "He's got the 'Touch of the Ancient Ones' himself. He discovered it. Why do we need someone else, who isn't even as useful as a doctor?"

"Gee Rodney," Sheppard drawled in that infuriating way. "A guy could get the idea that you didn't want me to come along on your expedition."

"A guy with a fundamental grasp of the obvious could, yes," Rodney quipped, and Dr Weir laughed.

Rodney didn't so much dislike Sheppard as he was made profoundly unhappy by the fact of him. He'd been there, two years ago, and seen with his own eyes, the day that Sheppard had haplessly ambled through the Antarctic archaeological sight, right into the room where Rodney was working -a room filled with dozens of Ancient One devices which no one had been able to get to work at all. A handful had lit up or turned on the moment he walked into the room, and others responded at his merest touch.

It was the shear unfairness of it that tormented Rodney. He with all his brilliance and all his PHDs, got nowhere with the Ancient One's technology, but this... this child of privilege, this dilettante soldier who'd purchased his commission, and then disgraced himself after only a few years -he was the one who could get it to come alive by just being in the same room. If Rodney hadn't long ago decided that God was just another fairy tale for the common idiot, this would have convinced him.

All that aside, Sheppard wasn't actually all that bad a guy, and maybe even a bit smarter than average. Also, he didn't seem at all put off by Rodney's... prickly demeanor, which was a rare enough thing. Truth be told, Rodney might even not be sorry that the man was going to be joining the expedition, but he'd sooner set fire to his PHDs than admit it.

"Oh look," Doctor Weir called out, interrupting Rodney's reverie. "They must have gotten the main engines up and running. They're casting off!"

"Casting off?" Zelenka cried, "but my equipment! How will we get it on board? How will _we_ get on board?"

"She's coming to us, Dr Zelenka," Elizabeth said with a smile. "She'll be tying up to the mooring mast right above us and there's a winch on the mast for cargo such as yours."

Zelenka looked up and then blushed. "You must think me a... jelimánek," he said, and though Rodney didn't know a word of Czech, the meaning was clear enough. "But there was no airship mooring in Praha when last I was there. This will do fine, of course."

Not even Rodney felt the need to tease Zelenka for his ignorance, for now nearly everyone was gazing upwards as the Daedalus drifted silently and majestically across the short distance from the hanger to the mooring mast. Only Sheppard seemed not to be so entranced, but instead turned to dash up the spiral stairs that climbed the mooring mast, coming to stand ready on the embarkation platform. He caught the mooring lines the crew from the Daedalus threw him with an ease that reminded Rodney that he was not only a disgraced Cavalry officer with the Touch of the Ancient Ones, but also a skilled airship pilot.

Sheppard had bought his commission in the Union Army not with money, but with a gift of five, state of the art airships, perfect for the sort of intelligence missions the Army needed in its war against the Confederacy. He'd more than doubled the size of the Union's lighter-than-air fleet, and trained every officer in the Lighter-than-air Cavalry... and then thrown everything away by taking an airship, carrying a highly top secret night vision scope, into enemy territory in order to rescue some of his men. Everyone knew this story, as his trial had been in the news for weeks back in '69, and for his part Rodney couldn't fault Sheppard's motives, but thought his actions rash.

Sheppard's skill with airships would most probably be an asset on the expedition, but his propensity to leap into danger might well prove a liability, Rodney reflected. Then again, it might balance out Zelenka's apparent timidity. The man seemed nervous as a cat, constantly glancing over his shoulder, as though expecting some unseen enemy to appear out of nowhere. How Weir had coaxed him out of his Bohemian hidey-hole remained a mystery to Rodney, save that it reinforced her reputation as a master negotiator.

The taking on of cargo and boarding proceeded without a hitch, except for how Dr Weir insisted that Dr Zelenka's cargo was not either over weight nor over volume from what he (and Rodney) had been told they would be allowed. Rodney was quite sure that it was, but no one seemed to be inclined to listen to him, as usual. When everything was loaded, the Daedalus' rear cargo hatch made fast and everyone, including Zelenka (who had approached the lofty boarding stairs with yet further reticence) had been boarded, a bottle of champagne was attached to a long chain off the end of the cargo winch, and swung to dash itself against the wooden figurehead on the Daedalus' prow.

The foaming liquid splashed over the painted figure of Daedalus, his white wings secured by a harness and holding a sword in one hand and a telescope in the other, and on board the airship a cheer went up from all the crew. Amidships, another bottle of champagne was opened and glasses were being poured for the officers and scientist civilians. Rodney clinked glasses with Peter Grodin as he listened with half an ear to Dr Weir introducing Zelenka to the other scientists and military on board. The scientists were all SPB veterans, whom Rodney knew (and mostly held in contempt), and Rodney didn't much care about the military. Still, his ears pricked up when he heard Dr Weir introducing Captain Sheppard to the number two Lighter-than-air Cavalry officer on board, Major Lorne.

"We've met," Sheppard replied in an unusually flat, emotionless tone.

"Major... or rather, Captain Sheppard trained me, ma'am," Lorne explained, clearly trying his best to be diplomatic in what was obviously a highly awkward situation.

"I see," Weir said, also trying for diplomatic and not entirely succeeding.

"He's a fine airman, ma'am," Lorne offered, filling the silence. "I'm certain he'll be an asset to the expedition."

Lorne seemed to mean what he said, Rodney thought, but there was a great deal not being said here. Rodney was no diplomat, but even he could see that.

Kavanagh came up to be introduced next, so obsequious and fawning towards Zelenka that Rodney had to roll his eyes and look away. Of course, Zelenka's presence was noteworthy, and naturally everyone wanted to meet him. Rodney wished him the joy of his new found celebrity while it lasted. His novelty would wear off soon enough.

Their glasses of champagne drunk, the Daedalus cast off and the officers and heads of staff were invited to the captain's mess on the quarterdeck, for a luncheon. Naturally, everyone wanted to sit near Zelenka, except for Rodney who said he didn't care. In the end, however Rodney found himself sitting across from the Czech scientist, and from Carson Beckett and Kavanagh who sat on either side of him. Rodney found himself flanked by Grodin and Dr David Parrish, the expedition botanist.

Further up the table to his right sat Colonel Caldwell and Dr Weir and various military officers and to his left were the rest of the science staff. The table was crowded and noisy, with several conversations going at once, but Rodney tried to mainly concentrate on the food, which he knew was only going to decline in quality as the voyage continued.

"It must be a bit of a shock to you," Beckett said to Zelenka, "coming to be with so many foreigners after so much time alone. I'd say you were managing quite well, all things considered." Rodney though this a bit of a personal question, but Zelenka had to talk to someone, and Kavanagh kept asking him moronic questions about werewolves in Bohemia.

"It's not so much that I was alone," Zelenka answered. "I walked down to the village near my home two or three times each week. Seeing so many new faces has been something to get used to, but I have had some time to practice on the journey here. It is not the new faces and foreign tongues that gives me trouble but rather... the sea."

"The sea?" Parrish asked.

"You know that my country is landlocked, yes?" Zelenka asked and various heads nodded in reply.

"I had never seen the sea before this long journey I have just taken," he continued, "and at first it seemed quite fascinating to me. The Black Sea and the Mediterranean were quite calm and pleasant, even in bad weather, but then we came into the Atlantic. I confess that I felt a profound unease the moment we passed out of sight of land, but my fascination was truly finished after my first experience of seasickness..."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," Beckett said sincerely. The doctor really was a kind man -a suitable trait for a doctor, Rodney supposed, but possibly a little sensitive for the dangerous adventure upon which they were embarking. "Were you able to get past it, or did it plague you for the whole voyage?"

"There were few days when the sea was calm and I was not so much effected," Zelenka answered, "but for the most part... it was not a pleasant journey. I am very much hoping that travel on an airship will be different."

"Airship travel is much more pleasant than going by steamer," Grodin chimed in. "As I can personally attest."

"It certainly seems smooth now," Zelenka agreed. "Are we under power now, or under sail? I cannot hear any engines, but perhaps they are very quiet?"

"We're currently under power, Dr Zelenka," answered Lt Lindsey Novak, the Daedalus chief engineer. Novak was... not completely stupid, in Rodney's estimation, but was prone to nervousness and, having been seated relatively close to Zelenka, had hiccuped her way through the meal so far. "We probably could be catching enough wind to go by sail right now, but we're wanting to get the engines broken in before we leave Union territory."

Indeed, it was true that the greatest danger for this expedition probably lay in the unknown world of the hollow Earth, but there were other, very well known concerns for the Daedalus and her crew. Being filled, from top to bottom, with the very newest sorts of technological developments, and the whole expedition being a variety of Secret Government Project, meant that they dared not touch down in the territory of any but the staunchest ally. On their north bound route they would be passing near only one safe haven -the French territory of Quebec.

The French had been trustworthy allies from the days of the American Revolution, but the British had allied itself with the Confederacy during the recent war, and their colonies of Canada and Nova Scotia could hardly be considered safe territory, even if they'd all signed non-aggression treaties twelve years ago. The Daedalus would be better off putting down in the sea than coming to land in any such territory -should they need to. Rodney was fairly convinced that they wouldn't, but he knew better than to count on it.

In the mean time here was Novak, sucking up to Zelenka like the sort of vacuum nature is supposed to abhor, not even hiccuping any more, so engrossed was she in her description of the Daedalus' engine design. To be fair, she was more than giving Rodney credit for it, in the most glowing of terms, but her obvious adoration of the Czech scientist was decidedly irritating.

Of course, if _he'd_ hidden himself away in some secret lair for the last twenty years or so, he'd be the big celebrity today, Rodney told himself. Anyway, he hadn't gone into science for celebrity, but to make the world a better place. It would be the better scientist who would be accorded the most fame in the end, not the one who'd lived the most 'mysterious' life.

"I am most eager to see this new engine of yours," Zelenka now turned to address Rodney. "The design, as Lt Novak describes it, seems quite elegant."

"It is, of course, decades ahead of anything you've probably seen before," Rodney replied. "You've been working mainly on clockwork and electrical systems, rather than steam and heavy enginery, I believe."

"That is true," Zelenka replied. "Still, a mechanical system is a mechanical system. I will be very surprised if I find nothing that I could improve on this engine of yours. I am very much looking forward to it."

Rodney _knew_ he was being baited, but it was simply not in him not to rise to it. "You'll find nothing!" he declared, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. "This engine is the ultimate refinement of the supercharger principle, and it's going to be the industry standard until the next generation of engines is invented."

This, Rodney realized with a sinking sense of resignation, was exactly what people had been waiting so see between the two of them. All other conversations at the table had died off save for a few furtive exchanges which Rodney was depressingly sure were wagers being made. He knew better than to let Zelenka draw him into any such, but it seemed that Zelenka wasn't going to go there either, mercifully.

"We shall see," he only said, which should have sounded feeble, but didn't some how.

"Yes we shall," Rodney replied, equally feebly, but he definitely didn't want to get into it with the man here at the dinner table, in front of all these people. If Rodney ended up needing to put Zelenka in his place, he'd do it in private... or at least only in front of other scientists. The man was entitled to his dignity, after all.

Thankfully, the rest of dinner proceeded without incident, as did their 'shake down' cruise from Mystic to Washington DC. They could have made the trip in a day, but they took three, putting all the new systems through their paces. Zelenka did get quite a good look at the Daedalus main drive engine, and did indeed _think_ that he could improve on it, but all the improvements Zelenka proposed, Rodney insisted that he had already considered and discarded as either useless or unfeasible. Needless to say, Zelenka remained unconvinced. Rodney had no idea how, or if any of those bets had been settled and he didn't want to know.

In Washington they would take on the last of their needed supplies, including two dozen carrier pigeons which would deliver dispatches directly to the Union government in Washington. They already had an equal number who would carry messages to SPB headquarters in Boston, and a number with other destinations. Zelenka took an unusual interest in them, it seemed to Rodney, though he explained, when asked, that he'd raised such birds as a boy, and even raced them.

The man had actually come to relax somewhat over the last few days and as he'd gotten to know everyone and gotten used to shipboard life. Zelenka's celebrity mystique had faded just a bit as well, which made Rodney a bit more kindly disposed towards the man, especially as Zelenka came to take on his share of shipboard chores with enthusiasm and good will.

It put Rodney in a generous state of mind -as uncommon as that was- so that as he sorted through the stack of mail and journals he'd just received in their final mail delivery, Rodney separated out the better portion of the journals to share with Zelenka -who would, for course, have no mail of his own. He'd taken the whole batch to the 'lab' they shared (no more than a tiny space, just big enough for two writing desks and a single work bench) in order to sort them, when an envelope fell out of the stack and caught his attention.

It was addressed in his sister's handwriting; Rodney would recognise it anywhere, and the return address was from her convent on Stoddart Island, Nova Scotia, but Rodney only got mail from her once a year, around Christmas. Rodney only ever wrote back on rare occasions, and she would have had no way of knowing about the expedition he was embarking on. It wouldn't be announced to the press and public till they were well on their way, and Jeannie (or Sister Constance, as she'd named herself when she took her vows) tended not to get news from the outside world until weeks or months after it had happened.

Journals forgotten, Rodney sat at his desk and opened the letter with a sense of deep foreboding. Whatever it was that had caused Jeannie to write, Rodney knew it couldn't be good, and he wasn't wrong. Sometimes, Rodney mused, being a genius wasn't any fun at all.

He read and reread the letter four times, feeling his heart sink more every time. When he was sure he had everything important committed to memory, Rodney burned the letter and the envelope -the fine linen paper giving off a stench that took several minutes to clear even after he'd opened the window.

Though it had cleared the smoke from the room, however, not even the brisk breeze coursing through the small space could lift the dark cloud that hung over Rodney's spirit now. His pride and happy anticipation over the expedition were now shattered and in ruins, and worse still, he'd have to go on acting as if nothing at all had changed.

He let his head rest in his hands for a moment, taking advantage of the privacy afforded him, then drew a long, resolute breath. He knew all too well what a terrible liar he was, but never in his life had more depended on his carrying off a deception. He would, therefore, do what he must, and he would not consider failure; his sister's life now hung in the balance. Rodney did not let himself think overmuch on how the fate of the civilized world hung in the balance too, or how his success in this endeavor might lead to unthinkable disaster in this last arena. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Rodney McKay was a genius, and he was no man's pawn. Those who sought to use him by threatening the only family he had would rue the day they had sought to outsmart him. By all the principles of science, Rodney swore it would be so.

*****


	3. Chapter 2: In which McKay and Sheppard undertake an unconventional flight in order to effect a rescue .

_****Chapter 2** ** _

**"I've heard men speak of Zelenka as a coward, because he stayed while so many of us fled to the haven of the new world. But in what reality, I ask you, do we call the man who flees brave, while we name a coward the man who remains where he must fear for his life and freedom, daily? No, Dr Radek Zelenka was the bravest of all of us, though he sought to hide that fact the whole of his life."**

**_-Janos Bartok -"The Illuminators: A history of the electrification of the world, and the men who made it possible."_ **

~~~~~

_Atlantic Ocean -100 miles east of the Massachusetts shore_

Everyone knew about McKay's family history -about how he and his sister were orphaned as children and raised by nuns, and about how McKay had struggled alone, after his sister entered orders, to raise himself up from nothing, by dint of his brilliance alone. It was the way of the New World, it seemed, to live one's life openly under the admiring and critical eye of the public, but Radek Zelenka shuddered at the prospect.

He knew that most people assumed that his 'secretive' nature was the result of living under the shadow of an aggressive northern neighbor, with designs on him and his know-how, and Radek was happy to let them go on believing so, even if it was not true. The truth was that Radek's nature was not so much secretive as it was private. His family and childhood had nothing to do with his scientific work, and were none of anyone else's business, regardless of the political situation.

It was also true, however, that political realities did dictate how free Radek could be with his personal life, even now. He had not seen nor spoken to his own sister in over fifteen years; not since, for fear that she and her family might be used against him, he had told her to go into hiding, and to tell him nothing of where she'd gone. He had a nephew, who must be nearly a young man now, about whom he knew nearly nothing, and who, very likely, knew next to nothing about him.

It saddened him, of course, but Radek also took great comfort in the fact that his family never need worry that they would be tortured, as his lover had once been, in order to influence him, or keep him under the control of the Kaiser. He held out hope for the future, as well, and against that future Radek kept a journal -not of his scientific advances, but of his life. At times, Radek had been hard pressed to think of what to write there, as his life had comprised nothing much new for many years, but now... Now, however, he was embarked upon an adventure any boy would dream of, and everything must be committed to paper for his nephew.

He had written already about his long journey to the New World, and about meeting Dr Weir and Dr McKay and the other scientists and crew, but now he must find some way to describe the Daedalus herself -to a boy who, like Radek, had probably never seen the sea or sailing ships. Still, the boy had almost certainly read the same sorts of adventure stories Radek had devoured as a lad -tales of pirates and explorers who'd traveled in ships that looked much like the Daedalus, save that they sailed the sea, not the skies.

He described her in such terms then, and wrote how she was more than seventy paces, from stem to stern (the crew had impressed upon Radek the importance of speaking in this nautical fashion, rather than saying 'from front to back'), and more than twenty five at the beam. She had no masts, of course, having the great, silver lift vessel keeping her aloft, but she did have sails -some stretching from the tip of the bowsprit up to the foremost point of the lift vessel, and matching sets at the sides, over the two beam struts.

The nearly seventy men and women aboard the Daedalus worked and lived and slept mostly on the three decks that lay below the main one, but two smaller decks rose up over the bow, and two lay above the stern. It was the front upper decks, which Radek had been instructed to call the 'forecastle', that gave the Daedalus her sleek look, as a swooping, aerodynamic 'hood' covered the whole forecastle. Windows pierced it in places -a pair of especially large ones letting the sun into Captain Caldwell's and Dr Weir's quarters, which lay on the upper level, and smaller ones illuminating his and McKay's, below them.

Civilian staff mess lay below it, as crew mess lay opposite that, on the main deck below the 'half deck' -the first deck above the main deck at the stern of the ship. The Captain's mess, which was where senior staff meetings took place, was located here, as well as his and Rodney's shared 'lab'. There was a broad balcony at this level too, and this was the location of the 'wheel' which controlled the rudder at the Daedalus' stern.

This, then would be Radek's world for the next four to six weeks, from the batteries of Leyden jars in the Daedalus' keel, to the pigeon cote under the tip of the hood on the forecastle, and the air-skiff landing platform on the quarterdeck. Here he would live and work as the expedition made their way across the four thousand miles of sea between the mainland of North America to an unknown island somewhere east of the Faroes.

As new and unfamiliar as this world was to him, there were some aspects of it which were more than familiar to Radek. A ship at sea, or in the air, is isolated, as might be a small country village -of the very sort Radek had grown up in. He knew, therefore, how important it was to keep in good relation with everyone, but especially those in command... and the cooks. He knew as well how such small, isolated communities tend to be rife with gossip, and the importance of being aware of most of it, but not to be seen as taking part.

Radek also knew that many long days of tedium must be met with a rigorous schedule, such as he kept during the long winters in his mountain home. Here on the Daedalus he kept a similar one -waking at six each morning, eating a healthy breakfast, while he listened to other early rising science staff chatting over their meals. Sometimes he dined alone, and sometimes Dr Weir, Lorne or Sheppard would join him.

After breakfast he took his morning 'constitutional', from the mess up to the top of the quarterdeck, then down through the crew quarters and the holds to the bilges to check on the batteries of Leyden jars, supplying the Daedalus with electricity. He imagined that Dr McKay also made regular checks here, but Leyden jars were temperamental things in his experience, and wanted frequent checking. Moreover, Radek could not help thinking that McKay seemed a bit distracted lately, and possibly liable to overlook something.

After walking the length of the Daedalus keel, Radek would ascend once more, to the pigeon cote at the pinnacle of the forecastle, and this was when his thoughts would turn to whatever problem was vexing him lately. Climbing the various ladders and companionways up from the bilges often helped Radek chew through a difficult equation or figure out some complex mechanism, though some problems proved resistant to this method. Trying to figure out what was going on with McKay was unfortunately one of them.

It didn't help that Radek didn't have much of a baseline for McKay's normal behavior. He'd seemed a bit standoffish at first, which Radek thought understandable, though he also seemed to be trying his best to be courteous, at least. Since they'd left Washington, however, he'd seemed downright ill tempered and harried, as though under some deadline or other pressure. This seemed odd to Radek, though he knew better than to inquire of the others about what might be ailing the expedition's chief scientist.

Dr McKay's reputation preceded him, and no one seemed to expect that he would be anything other than short tempered and arrogant. Having never actually worked with the man, Radek couldn't say that he knew him to have any different behavior. Still, it seemed to him that he'd been getting to know a different sort of man at the start, than who he was confronted with now. Certainly the others knew him better, but maybe, Radek postulated, they knew him _too_ well. Maybe, as the English saying went, familiarity does breed contempt, and in their contempt the others couldn't see what Radek did -that something was almost certainly deeply troubling Rodney McKay.

Of course, Radek knew better than to try any kind of direct confrontation, so his only recourse was to observe from a distance while he went about his daily routine. By the end of their second week out from Washington, Radek was sure that McKay was actively avoiding nearly everyone, though this was harder for him to manage with Radek. In fact, Radek found that he was the one who had more regular contact with McKay than anyone else on the Daedalus, so he supposed he was the best suited to the task of observing the elusive scientist.

The main reason for this was their shared ‘lab’ on the half deck, and the fact that both of them preferred to work here in the hours between mid-morning and lunch. For both of them, this work consisted of reading and studying, which they both did in silence, without bothering the other. It was a refuge for both of them as well –for Radek so that he could spend the hours acquainting himself with the Daedalus’ systems and the SPB’s discoveries of the Ancient One’s technology, and for McKay (Radek suspected) so that he could avoid everyone else.

Radek did hear the scratch of McKay's pen against paper at times, though McKay never left any of his writing out on his desk, even when he left to use the head. There were also times when Radek was sure he was meant to think that McKay was working when he was in fact merely sitting, shoulders slumped -sometimes even resting his head in his hands. He would straighten in his chair and pretend to focus on something whenever he thought Radek was looking, but it was an obvious pretense. There were moments when Radek almost thought that McKay might be close to confessing something, but the moment would always pass in silence.

The two of them often went to lunch together, mainly because Radek indulged McKay's preference for silence, or asked entirely innocent and uncontroversial questions which McKay wouldn't mind talking about. He regularly drove off others who would occasionally try joining them at their table with his abrasive manner, though Sheppard and Beckett, the expedition doctor, seemed immune. Radek quietly took note of this.

After lunch, Radek preferred to find work for his hands, and there was no shortage here. Mainly he engaged himself opening and inspecting, and sometimes assembling, the equipment he'd brought with him from his machine shop. Occasionally he invited McKay to join him, and occasionally he accepted, though he was seldom if ever respectfully attentive.

Contrary-wise, McKay could be depended on to tell Radek in no uncertain terms how idiotic or insane he had been to design this in this way, or to expect that to function that way. Naturally, emotions tended to run high and best of all, since these 'discussions' generally took place down in the cargo hold, they usually managed to have them without an audience. Radek hadn't had so much fun since his university days, and he was pretty sure that McKay was enjoying himself too.

Then the dinner bell would ring and Radek would watch McKay disappear back into himself, bristling and hostile, so that he nearly always ended up eating dinner alone. Radek watched him through narrowed eyes and wondered fiercely what was going on. He could see the transformation McKay went through, even if no one else did, and Radek determined that he would find out the reason for it.

After dinner was the time that various structured and unstructured 'activities' were organized, and McKay made himself scarce. Radek, however, could hardly refuse. Caldwell and Weir had seen to it that there was something on nearly every night, and as often as not it was of interest to Radek.

There were poetry and literary readings, music performances, lectures by science staffs, and other engaging activities. On nights when Dr Weir organized a card game -usually whist, which Radek could play passably- Radek sometimes enticed Sheppard or Caldwell or one of the science staff into a chess game instead, which he enjoyed most of all. For more than ten years, Radek had only been able to play by mail, which was slow, and a very different sort of game. Playing in person was a profound pleasure, and Sheppard in particular was a delightfully challenging player.

All the science staffs were required to prepare two lectures for the voyage out, and all were well attended. Radek's were on the power production properties of [moldavite](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moldavite), which he'd never revealed to the public before, and on basic principles of clockwork mechanics. Dr Weir gave a talk on the writings of the Ancient Ones, and another on the structure of the Ancient Ones' language, Peter Grodin gave a presentation on the discoveries made in Antactica, Dr Parrish gave a talk on bio-luminescence in plants and Dr Kavanagh gave a slightly creepy but informative lecture on protecting oneself from the influence of Elder Gods and their minions.

Dr McKay didn't attend any of these, save for Radek's, which was quite flattering, even if the man did sneak in late and slip away while people were still asking questions. McKay did have questions, it turned out, but he saved them to grill Radek personally in their lab the next morning, and Radek enjoyed giving his answers immensely. McKay also had to give a couple of presentations too, though by the third week of their voyage he'd only given one -a highly useful talk on the Daedalus' electrical systems.

He only answered a few questions afterwards, before excusing himself for the evening, but Radek saved his questions for the next day and as a result got a wonderfully detailed tour of the Deadalus electrical systems after lunch. It was clear that McKay was very proud indeed of the work he'd done on the Deadalus, and with good reason, Radek thought, but he seemed to take no pleasure in it save those odd moments when he was alone with Radek.

Radek had his theories about why this was. For starters, it might be that McKay assumed that since Zelenka didn't know him so well, he might not notice his odd behavior. If this was the case then he was badly underestimating Radek's perceptiveness, but Radek took no offence. The man hadn't yet gotten to know him well yet either, and McKay's perceptiveness was clearly not so very acute.

It was also quite possible that McKay was simply enjoying the opportunity to share his ideas with someone who could actually keep up, and Radek understood this quite well. Just as Radek took great pleasure in having truly challenging chess partners for the first time in years, McKay really did seem to enjoy their discussions, even when -or perhaps especially when- they came to disagree. Their debates by correspondence had always been enjoyable, but Radek found their live 'discussions' positively exhilarating.

Occasional exhilarating moments aside, McKay's mood continued to worsen gradually as the time passed, and Radek began to see signs that the man was losing sleep now as well. Radek even caught Dr Beckett, who seemed to know McKay better than anyone else, throwing worried glances in McKay's direction from time to time. This really did bode ill, as they would very likely need McKay functioning at his best when they eventually arrived at their final destination, and so Radek decided to step up his surveillance.

Because McKay's cabin adjoined his, Radek knew that McKay's sleeplessness was not entirely a matter of his tossing and turning in his bunk all night. Radek himself was a fairly light sleeper, and he could hear McKay's comings and goings, as clearly as if he were in the same room. There was definitely a pattern to them, for every fifth night McKay would depart his quarters at two in the morning and return an hour or so later. Deducing that these nocturnal departures might hold the answer to what was troubling McKay, Radek determined, at last, to play spy, and follow him.

It was definitely a surprise to see McKay climb the full distance to the pigeon cote, and a greater surprise still to see him evidently fasten a message onto one of the birds and loose it into the night. He then sat, his posture despairing, on the top step, watching the bird disappear into the darkness, as Radek watched, hidden in the shadows at the bottom of the steps and grappled with what he had come to observe.

McKay, a spy? Radek's mind reeled at the prospect. Never in his life had Radek seen a less likely spy, and the very fact that he allowed himself to believe that he would be free of such considerations here on the Daedalus filled him with self recrimination. How could he have been so naive? Of course there were spies here, as there were everywhere. In fact, McKay was almost certainly not the only spy here, and Radek ought to be paying more attention to the other expedition members.

Wondering who else among their company might be a spy was not what kept Radek awake at nights for the next week, however. It was the idea that Rodney McKay was working as a spy that confounded him, like a cog that could not be made to fit in the mechanism for which it was intended. He could not make it make sense that McKay could be a spy -Radek had never met anyone so apolitical in his life. Clearly, Radek must be misunderstanding something in this situation, and he needed more information to sort it.

Fortunately, Radek thought to himself, lifting his very favorite creation out of the velvet lined box in which it had travelled from Bohemia, he had just the data gathering device that he needed. He laid the sleek form upside down in it's box to part a pair of brass 'feathers' at it's 'belly' -revealing a perfectly round recess. The tiny key required was one of three that hung on a fine chain around Radek's neck, and when he pressed it and turned it, so that it sunk down further still, the life sized, brass and steel pigeon seemed to come to life in his hands.

It righted itself easily and hopped out of its box to stand on the edge, angled it's metal feathered head up to look at Radek and blinked.

"Ahoj, moje krasně," Radek said with a wide smile, picking the device up gently, as though it were live. Moving a few of the delicate brass feathers at the back of the 'bird's' head aside, Radek exposed a tiny control panel of five miniature toggles.

"You will have a long flight tonight, I think," Radek said as he set the toggles carefully, then replaced the covering feathers. It was five nights since Radek had first watched Rodney send his secret message. If he sent another tonight, as Radek suspected he would, Radek's bird would follow Rodney's. According to the behavioral algorithm Radek had set, it would record the latitude and longitude and the time that it's quarry went to ground, then it would return -called back to the Deadalus by a homing beacon Radek had set at the crest of the pigeon cote.

He tapped the clockwork bird twice on the top of its head o that it fell still in Radek's hand, and he slipped it into his coat pocket. It was an hour before Rodney might be expected to appear, but Radek was a cautious man, and did not mind settling himself to wait under the stairs on the main deck, one deck below where Rodney would begin his climb, but where Radek would not fail to hear him.

Almost exactly an hour later, Rodney came just as Radek expected, and when he heard the door to the pigeon cote opening, he emerged from his hiding place, lifting his creation from his pocket. It 'woke' when Radek tapped it on the head three times, bobbing its head and blinking, but remained lying in Radek's hand until Radek heard the flap of real bird's wings emanating from the top of the forecastle.

Silently he launched his own bird into the night, where it unfurled its wings with only a slight, well oiled snicking sound, which only Radek heard. "Št'astné cestou!" Radek called quietly as his creation disappeared silently into the darkness. He stepped back into the shadows again until he heard Rodney descend the stairs and return to his cabin, and then, a few minutes later, Radek ascended himself. Radek did not sleep deeply in the reminder of that night, and he dreamed through much of it, of dark skies and steel and brass wings, speeding through it.

The bird returned to him a day and a half later. It was late afternoon, but no one was on deck to see him except for one of the watch, who had by now gotten used to seeing the Daedalus science staff doing odd things. He probably reported it to the head of the watch, who would write it in his log and forget about it. Radek retrieved his clockwork pigeon from the top of the pigeon cote and retired immediately to his room to examine the data it had bought in private.

Shifting another few feathers on the bird's breast revealed a small, crystal window, behind which was displayed a strip of copper foil. The numbers scribed there represented the location of the destination of McKay's bird, and the time it had arrived. Radek recorded these in the small notebook which he always kept in his breast pocket, then deactivated the bird and laid it to rest in its case, stroking his fingers over the metal feathers before closing the lid. Now, to the Daedalus' chart room, and hope no one was there to ask him what he was looking for.

There was someone there, but it was only Chuck Campbell, the Daedalus' sailing master and navigator, and he proved quite helpful in finding the map Radek needed. What he discovered when he was finally able to discern the destination of Rodney's message was not so helpful, however. It occurred to Radek then that he had no idea what, if any, outposts the Prussian Kaiser or any of his allies might have in the new world, or even if it was the Kaiser that Rodney was spying for. Clearly, there was a great deal Radek didn't know, and only one place to really get the answers.

Radek cornered Rodney later that night in their lab, after the conclusion of Novak's highly informative presentation on the development of steam superchargers. Rodney hadn't attended, of course, and Radek knew that he often secreted himself in the lab during evening presentations. He caught the scientist just as he was leaving, urging him back inside as Radek closed the door behind him.

"The time has come for us to have an important conversation, Dr McKay," Radek began directly, and he could see that Rodney knew exactly what the subject would be, as his eyes grew wide with alarm as soon as Radek had spoken. Then, of course, he tried -very badly- to hide his reaction.

"Actually, you know, now is a really bad time," he said, words coming in a nervous rush. "I've had a really long day, and I'm really tired," he attempted a sadly unconvincing yawn here, "so what say we try again in the morning..." McKay tried pushing past Radek to the door, but Radek held firm.

"I believe we will have this conversation now," Radek began, and then paused as a number of voices could be heard entering the officer's mess -adjacent to their lab- taking coffee or a glass of something before bed. "But we will not have it here," he concluded, grabbing hold of McKay's upper arm. "Come, we must find someplace where we will not be heard."

In the end this turned out to be on the open deck, off to the side near the starboard beam struts, where the night watch could see them, but would assume they were discussing the mechanics of the device. The moon was three quarters full and just rising as they stepped to the rail, and Radek could see in its light how Rodney's expression was a mixture of relief and dread.

"Listen," Rodney whispered loudly, clearly still trying for denial. "I don't know what you think you saw..." he began, but Radek cut him off.

"What I _know_ I saw," Radek hissed back, "is that you have been sending secret messages, by carrier pigeon, every five days. What I also know," he continued, speaking over McKay's attempted refutation, "is that your messages have been going to a small island off the coast of Nova Scotia. What I do not know is who is receiving your messages, and what I do not understand is _why!_ Why, McKay? What possible reason could you have for stooping so low as to _spy_ on this expedition?"

Now that he waited for an answer, of course, McKay seemed to have fallen into a stupefied silence. "I..." he finally managed to splutter. "It's not... I mean... wait... how do you know where my messages are going?" McKay actually managed to work a note of indignation into his last question, but Radek only grinned in reply.

"I had your bird followed," Radek said, producing his creation from his pocket, "with one of my own making. I call them 'orlub' -and they do my bidding most faithfully."

McKay goggled a bit as the moonlight fell over the mechanical pigeon in Radek's hand. The perfect artifice of its feathers gleamed in the pale light as Radek tapped it awake.

"Oh my God," McKay said. "That's... that thing followed my carrier pigeon all the way to the continent and came back here, to the Daedalus?" Radek nodded silently and McKay put a hand over his face, leaning hard against the rail.

"Oh God, I'm fucked," he said, nothing but despair in his voice now. Radek was moved to comfort the man, but retrained himself. He had to know the truth first.

"Why did you do it, McKay?" he asked again, insistent. "Who commands your loyalty so that you betray us? What did they pay you?"

"And how is that any of your business?" Mckay fired back, suddenly angry. "If you're going to turn me in, then turn me in, but you don't get to stand here and pass judgement on my life, Zelenka!"

"How is it my business?!" Radek spit back at him. "You want to know how? Then look here! _This_ is a spy's work!"

In his haste to push his right shirt sleeve up, Radek popped his cuff button, but he was well past caring. He pulled the lose shirt sleeve back to where his suspenders crossed his shoulders, revealing the network of scars on his arm and shoulder. They gleamed almost silver in the moonlight and McKay gasped and stumbled back.

"Oh God," he gasped.

"This is where spying leads, McKay," Radek said, teeth bared. "This is what your masters will command of you before very long! Did you think your hands would remain clean, or do you really not care?"

McKay didn't seem to be listening to Radek's questions, however. He'd fallen back against the rail again, and his eyes were wide, and fixed upon Radek's scarred arm. "They wouldn't..." he began, voice unsteady. "They wouldn't do that... to a nun, would they?"

And right then, all the pieces fell into place in Radek's mind.

"You..." Rodney continued, sounding almost lost now. "Do you even have any family, Zelenka? Any brothers or sisters?"

"I do, in fact," Radek said, voice gentle now as he let his sleeve drop and reached across to touch Mckay's arm. "I have a sister and a nephew, But I have not seen them for more than ten years -not since I told them to go into hiding, after Nikola and I were taken prisoner and tortured by the Kaiser's spies."

McKay blinked, looking down at where Radek touched him, as though astonished by his gesture of comfort. "Well it's a bit too late for that now, for Jeannie, isn't it?" he said bitterly.

"Too late for her to go into hiding, yes," Radek said, an idea taking root in his mind even as he spoke. "But not too late for any effort. Come with me!"

A minute later, the two of them stood before an enormous open crate -the largest of the items Radek had brought with him from Bohemia. It had taken a lot of prodding and tugging to get McKay down here to the cargo hold, and now that he gazed with Radek upon the object in the crate he seemed more confused than amazed.

"Tady je můy velký orlub!" Radek said with pride. McKay continued to stare, as though not at all sure what he was looking at.

"What's an _orlub_?" he finally said.

"It is the name I have given my creations," Radek explained, gesturing at the small orlub perched on his shoulder, much as a real pigeon would. "It is from the word [orloj](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orloj) which is our beautiful astrological clock in Prague, and holub -which is our word for pigeon. It also sounds similar to _orel_ which is our word for eagle -and very well suited, I think."

"Eagle?" McKay said dubiously, peering at the device on Radek's shoulder.

"They saved my life!" Radek protested. "A handful of these, rescued myself and my Nikola from the Kaiser's men, the time that they had us captured and tortured."

"How?" McKay asked, peering more closely still.

"I have designed several possible behavioral algorithms for the orlub, and one is to defend," Radek said. "The tips of the wing feathers -you must be careful not to touch. They are sharper than a razor."

"Oh," said McKay, drawing back a bit. "And that one?" He pointed to the device in the crate.

"The velký orlub does not defend," Radek explained, "but it does carry two men -possibly three if they are not too heavy, and it may be instructed to follow the smaller orlub."

Now, at last, Radek saw the gears begin to turn in McKay's mind. He looked at the velký orlub, then back at Radek, frowning in thought. "So, can you fly this thing?" he asked eventually.

"Ne, ne, ne," Radek said immediately, raising his hands. "I do not fly and I do not swim. We will need a pilot -one we can trust."

McKay considered the question. "Sheppard is as good a pilot as you'll find," said after a moment.

"And can we trust him?" Radek asked. "Can we be certain his is not a spy?"

"A spy?" McKay gave Radek a scathing look. "Well he hates the Confederacy, that's for sure."

"The Confederacy?" Radek asked in reply. "What about the Kaiser, or the Czar... or the Swiss? Would he spy for any of them?"

"The Swiss?!" McKay gaped, incredulous. "Why in god's name would he be spying for the Swiss?"

"Why does anyone spy for anyone?" Radek asked, throwing up his hands. It was dawning on him that political realities on this side of the water might be somewhat different from what he'd been used to. "Who is it that has your sister?"

"I don't actually know," McKay said, sounding defeated. "I'd assumed it was most likely the Confederacy... or the British. Comes to much the same thing, these days."

"And Sheppard -you are sure he would not spy for either of these?" Radek asked. McKay shook his head forcefully.

"Like I said, he really hates the Confederacy," he confirmed. "And honestly, I don't see him as the spying type, and he definitely doesn't need the money."

"Then Sheppard must be our pilot," Radek said, hoping with all his heart that their trust was not misplaced. He sent McKay to fetch the man while he saw to the winching of the velký orlub onto the main deck. He told the deckhands that it was an experiment, which was an excuse -he'd learned in his time on the Daedalus- that nearly always guaranteed no questions and near instant compliance. He was just checking the orlub's mechanics when McKay and Sheppard appeared.

"That thing actually flies?" was his first comment.

"Just as well as this one does," Radek replied, commanding the smaller orlub -resting on a nearby spar- to fly to Sheppard's shoulder.

"Woah!" he cried, flinching away and watching the orlub swoop and flutter about until he allowed it to land where it had been told. "You built that?"

"Altogether I have built thirty," Radek replied with pride. "But I have only brought five with me. This one is my newest and most sophisticated."

"Oookay," Sheppard said, peering more closely at the larger orlub, especially looking into the pilot's seat and controls. These consisted of a panel of switches surrounding a knobbed sphere, all set in the back of the giant bird's 'head', and all labeled in Czech.

"Do not concern yourself with this." Radek said hastily. "The velký orlub will will be operating mainly automatically, following a behavioral algorithm to follow the smaller bird -which, in turn will be retracing its earlier path. You need only operate these two switches. They instruct the velký orlub to take off," Radek indicated a green toggle on the left side of the panel, "and to land." This was a red toggle on the right side.

"What if I wanted to control the, ah, orloob myself?" Sheppard asked.

"Then you would have to disable the _následovat_ algorithm, with this slider," Radek indicated the proper instrument, "and then you would have to steer it with this base controller here." This was the knobbed sphere at the center of the panel, which he pointed out to Sheppard, and then drew back a bit sheepishly.

"I feel I must tell you, however," Radek said, "that though I have had people up in the velký orlub several times... no one has ever tried... actually piloting it. I can assure you," he followed up quickly, "that the algorithms work splendidly... and that's all you should need..."

"Riiight," Sheppard drawled. "Well, I can't say it would be the craziest thing I've ever done, but it will be the craziest thing I've ever flown. Count me in!"

Radek grinned, then called the malý orlub back to his own shoulder and reminded both men that the trip would likely take between four and five hours, and that it would probably get pretty cold in the velký orlub's open pilot and passenger compartments. They took his advice and headed off to their quarters, and to visit the head. Sheppard returned first, wearing a heavy, fur lined leather jacket and a silk scarf. McKay arrived a little later, enveloped in what looked like some sort of vast Eskimo parka, including voluminous a fur trimmed hood. Both Radek and Sheppard eyed him incredulously.

"What?!" McKay protested. "I had it made when I went to Antarctica, and I wasn't a bit sorry."

"We're not in Antarctica now, McKay," Sheppard pointed out.

"So?" was McKay's rejoinder. "It's going to be cold and windy and it's not like I'm going to be able to move around much to keep warm. And you can die of hypothermia in forty degrees, you know."

"I am aware, Mckay," Sheppard said, looking him up and down. "Are you going to be able to fit into your seat in that thing?"

"Should be no problem." Radek answered quickly, before McKay could explode with indignation. "Each compartment is quite roomy -the back one especially, so that two can sit there."

"Yeah, how does that work, exactly?" Sheppard asked examining the passenger compartment now. "There's only one seat there."

"Your sister will have to sit..." Radek indicated his upper thighs, not sure of the word in English, and shrugged. "But the velký orlub will carry all of you with no difficulty, of that I am sure."

"Five hours with my sister in my lap?" McKay squawked.

"Looks like you've got plenty of cushioning," Sheppard replied, then moved to climb into the orlub. "Come on, let's get this show on the road. Zelenka, after we get there, how do we get this thing to fly us back?"

"You do just as I am about to do now, with the malý orlub," he said, showing them the smaller bird. "Once it has arrived, it will find a perch and sit there until you throw it into the air. It will begin its journey back to the Daedalus and then you must move the green toggle on the velký orlub and it will follow."

"Seems simple enough," Sheppard said, settling himself in his seat. "What if someone comes along and picks up the little one there while we're in somewhere rescuing nuns?"

"Hmm, a good question," Radek said, thinking a moment. "Tak," he said at last. "After you arrive, pick up the malý -the smaller- orlub and tap it hard on the top of the head twice. It will 'sleep' then and will not wake until you tap it on the head three times. You should probably put it somewhere safe while it sleeps as well."

"Sounds like a plan," Sheppard said, looking back at where McKay was not figuring out how to climb in himself. "Coming McKay?"

"Here, here," Radek pulled down a narrow, folding ladder so that McKay could climb into the rear compartment. "Be sure to fasten your restraining belts," Radek reminded them. "The velký orlub has no wheels."

They both looked at him curiously at that, but did as they were told and Radek stepped back and away, moving closer to the rail. He checked his little orlub, making sure the correct algorithm was engaged, then tossed it with both hands into the air.

"Uletět', moje krasně!" Radek cried as the orlub took wing, then, "The green toggle!" he shouted to Sheppard. "Go now!"

Glancing back first to see that McKay was settled and the ladder stowed, Sheppard did as instructed and the velký orlub came alive, raising and then settling its feathers, then unlimbering its wings and orienting itself towards its the Daedalus' rail. At its first hop Sheppard said something that Radek was sure was not suitable for polite company, and its second hop, to perch up on the rail, elicited an entirely undignified squawk from McKay.

"Št'astnou cestu!" Radek cried as the orlub leaped off the rail and swooped after its guide. He smiled to hear just how high McKay's voice got as he shrieked at take off, but the orlub beat its powerful wings, carrying them with ease off into the night. He extracted his pocket watch as he made his way back to his quarters, calculating that it would be midday, at least, before they returned, if all went well.

The responsible thing to do now, would be to inform Dr Weir, but it was after midnight and she was surely sleeping, and besides, what could she or anyone else do? No, Radek considered, better to let everyone get a full night's sleep and attend to these matters in the morning. If he kept quiet no one might think to ask him about where McKay and Sheppard had gone till they returned, and Radek thought that would be just fine.

His part was done, for now, and the rest would attend to itself.

***

John Sheppard had been prepared to be bored on the long journey to the hollow earth, but he had not been prepared for how much he really didn't like being bored. He'd bought himself a book -the longest one he could find, which turned out to be some newly translated Russian epic called, "War and Peace" of all things, and he supposed it was readable, but he'd gotten to chapter nine already and was sick to death of all the sitting around.

This was the reason, then, that Sheppard offered up a silent and secret thanks to God when McKay appeared at the door of the officers' quarters and said, "Oh good, you're awake. Come on then, we need a pilot, right now."

He had to offer some sort of token complaint, of course, but not too much, as people were sleeping here, and Maybourne was giving him the stink-eye. Still, he felt entitled to give McKay a relatively hard time all the way out to the deck where the thing he was meant to pilot was revealed and that drove every other consideration out of his mind.

John liked to think he'd been keeping up on aviation developments, and last he'd heard, most experts were saying that a practical, passenger bearing ornithopter was decades away, at least. Of course, the experts weren't talking to Zelenka, and he probably wouldn't have talked to them anyhow. John would never confess to the slight pang he felt when he learned that others had gone up in the thing before him, but he was thrilled to hear that he still had a chance of being the first to properly fly it.

Granted, John wasn't yet one hundred percent clear on just why they were going. McKay's ramblings on the way up had alluded to something about his sister (the nun), messages carried by homing pigeon and extortion, but he figured they'd need something to fill in the hours of the long journey. Someone more perceptive than McKay might have called him on how few questions he had about the whole operation, and how little he was objecting, but no one else was there except for Zelenka, who seemed mostly concerned with his 'velkee oreloop' (or was that oarlube?).

His admonition about belting in John took to heart immediately, but didn't connect it to his following comment about having no wheels until the contraption came to life and began to maneuver itself. The first 'hop' caught him unawares, though he was somewhat prepared for the next one. McKay, on the other hand, was not prepared for the second hop up onto the ship's rail, and utterly undone by their launch into the open air.

John thought he might actually have some permanent hearing damage from the volume of McKay's high pitched and terrified shriek as they plunged into the night air, but John didn't care. He still managed to hear Zelenka call out something that sounded like 'cash-cow cesspool' as they sped away, and he'd never in his life known such exhilaration. He pledged at that moment to become the first and finest pilot for Zelenka's flying machine. He'd pursued flying his whole life, using all the significant resources at his disposal to make his airships faster and more maneuverable, to be more like the birds he longed to join. Zelenka's creation, however, offered him everything he'd ever desired and never hoped to achieve.

"What do you think, McKay?" he shouted when they had finally achieved something like level flight. "Is this fantastic or what?"

"Are you insane, Sheppard?" McKay yelped in reply. "No, don't answer that -I already know you're insane, which makes me wonder what _I'm_ doing here."

"I thought it was rescuing your sister," John said, having to shout a bit over the wind, and over his shoulder at McKay.

"Well obviously _you're_ needed to fly this unspeakable contraption and bring my sister back," McKay replied. "But all _I'm_ doing at this point is taking up valuable space."

"Your sister doesn't know me from Robert E Lee, McKay," John replied. "And she's definitely not going to get into a giant mechanical pigeon with me, even if she is being held prisoner by a bunch of Confederate spies."

"Maybe," McKay admitted grudgingly. "And Zelenka thinks they might be Prussian spies."

"Prussians?!" John said. "That seems a little unlikely. And how is it that you don't even know who's threatening your sister?"

"Because they didn't tell me?" McKay replied acidly. "All I know is that I got a letter in our last mail before we left Washington, telling me to send reports on what I was doing, using the pigeons with the gray leg bands, every five days, or bad things would happen to my sister. And yes," McKay continued before John could ask the obvious follow-up question, "the letter contained a note from Jeannie, in her own handwriting, which included a short message in a code only we know, telling me the danger was genuine."

John digested all this as he adjusted his scarf to keep the wind from blowing down the front of his jacket. Zelenka's flying machine flew just like a real bird, taking long, slow swoops and then climbing at the end of each with a handful of powerful wing beats. The sensation was closer to being in a ship at sea, sailing over large swells, than the smooth, serene progress of an airship, and Sheppard hoped McKay wasn't prone to seasickness. Best not to let him dwell on it.

"So when was the last time you saw your sister, McKay?" Sheppard inquired.

"I'm not sure... probably more than ten years ago... but we write all the time," McKay replied. "They don't, ah, let men on the island where her convent is, and she doesn't exactly ever leave."

"Right," Sheppard said. "And this is the island where we're going to rescue her now?"

"In theory," McKay answered. "I'm still not one hundred percent convinced that Zelenka isn't full of... hot air."

Sheppard laughed. "And yet, here you are, riding in his giant, mechanical-pigeon flying machine," he said.

"It flies, yes," McKay groused, "but that's still a far cry from being able to accurately navigate across hundreds of miles of ocean to a remote island. I reserve the right to remain skeptical until we actually arrive."

"Assuming we do," Sheppard said, "you have any idea of the layout there, or where your sister's being kept?"

"In fact," McKay answered with a touch of pride, "I do. In the secret message she included, she wrote that she was being kept in the lighthouse, along with the Mother Superior. It's apparently a little way from the actual convent, although it's the sisters who tend it."

"She's a smart lady, your sister," John remarked with approval.

"Smart!" McKay snapped. "She's brilliant, just like me, and she only entered the convent because they'll let her concentrate on the very advanced mathematical work she's doing -unlike _any_ of the prestigious institutions of higher learning, all of whom have men on their faculty whose work looks like rudimentary arithmetic compared to what she's doing!"

"I stand corrected!" John capitulated, hands in the air. "Worried about her, huh?"

At first his answer was only silence, and John gave him his space. Family wasn't always easy to talk about, and John knew that as well as anyone.

"You, ah, you want some coffee?" McKay said eventually.

"Coffee?" John replied. "Where'd you get coffee?"

"Coat pockets," Rodney said. "This coat isn't just big and funny looking, it's also got a lot of big, useful pockets. I've got a flask of hot coffee, a couple of sandwiches and an apple in here."

"Cool," John said, and then, "Sure, I'd take some coffee." He turned back to accept the enamelled cup McKay handed him, hot against his chilled fingers.

"We're, um, good now, Jeannie and me," McKay said as John sipped his coffee, "but the last time I actually saw her... we sort of had a huge fight... about her going into the convent. She knows I think that religion and God is just a bunch of... superstitions for the feeble minded, and I thought she felt the same." McKay gave a sigh loud enough to be audible over the wind, and the soft clicks and snicks of the orlub's mechanisms.

"But she just joined them to do math, right?" John asked.

"Mostly," McKay answered, "but, you know, they don't let you enter an order on a pretense. They kind of do expect you to actually believe in God and stuff. I told her that it would make her stupid, and that she was deluded... and maybe other, worse stuff. We, ah... we didn't talk at all after that for like four years."

"Damn," Sheppard said, with feeling. "But you made up eventually, right?"

"Yeah," McKay answered. "Four years or so after she joined the convent she sent me half a proof -a really beautiful piece of work- and told me that if I apologised she'd send me the rest."

"And did you?" John asked. "Apologise, I mean."

"Of course," McKay said, as if it had been nothing, though John suspected that it hadn't been so easy for him at the time. "It was a truly elegant proof, and eventually I helped her get it published."

"Cool. I take it she doesn't publish under her real name?" John inquired.

"Neither one of them," McKay answered cryptically, then explained, "Not Jeannie McKay, or Sister Constance. She gets her proofs reviewed overseas, then they're sent to the publishers as being the work of 'Dr Andre Constanza'. 'He' is fairly well regarded in the pure maths arena."

"I know," John said, because he did, and wished he could see the look on McKay's face. "I don't just fly air craft, McKay," he said, anticipating the man's skeptical response, "I've also designed them, and I keep an eyes on anyone else doing the same thing. There's couple of bicycle mechanics in the Carolinas that I told the Union government I'd be happy to spy on, but they don't want any 'diplomatic incidents' nowadays."

"Well, you can stop worrying about them," McKay said. "This thing of Zelenka's is a million years ahead of whatever they're doing... but if you tell Zelenka I said that, I vow to make your life a living hell, Sheppard."

John just laughed and sat back in his seat, peering ahead to try and spot the smaller mechanical bird this one was following. McKay was okay, no matter what anyone said. They settled into a comfortable silence then, McKay handing him half a sandwich after a little while. John ate contentedly, appreciating the nourishment as the wind blew cold against his face and hands.

(Music cue:)

The only light was from the half moon, fickle as it brightened and faded from the clouds moving to cover it and then moving on. Only the long swoops punctuated by a handful of wing beats gave any sense of motion, and it was a matter of faith alone that they still tracked Zelenka's 'guide bird'. For his part, John felt not the least concern, just as he always felt when in the air.

It was a quality that had lead John's commanding officers to call him reckless, and some of his men to call him brave. John knew it wasn't bravery. That was when you did something in spite of the fact that you were afraid, and that made McKay a far braver man than him, at the moment. John figured that maybe he was just a little nuts about flying, and not necessarily in the best way. These days he did his best to play it down.

John felt it almost like a drug -the giddiness that came with flight- and the freer he felt, the higher he felt. Having McKay here now helped ground him, and think the better of Zelenka's advice not to try and control the flying machine himself. A mission was no time to take risks and try experiments, but the time would come, John promised himself, that he would take Zelenka's flying machine to its fullest potential. He would prove himself by helping bring McKay's sister back to the Daedalus, and earn the approval from the Czech scientist to take real control of his device.

"Hey," McKay's voice interrupted his reverie. "I think it's actually starting to get light out."  
Blinking, John saw that there was now a faint, colorless light suffusing everything. He could see his hands, and the pale outline of the flying machine around him and, if he peered ahead, the faint suggestion of the horizon. Gazing intently into that distance, John thought he spotted the briefest glint of light there, and as he continued to stare, he saw it again.

"Didn't you say your sister was being kept in a lighthouse, McKay?" He asked. "Have a look there." John pointed out the place where he'd seen the light.

"What, I don't see... Oh," McKay replied as the glimmer appeared again.

"Well, it's possible... but there's more than one lighthouse in New England, you know."

"I do know," John replied, because the man did have a point. "Still, I'd say it was a promising sign, wouldn't you?" McKay didn't reply, but John figured that silence might a well equal consent in this case, and waited for matters to resolve themselves.

Half an hour later, they were still headed directly towards the beckoning gleam of what had to be a lighthouse, and the gathering dawn was slowly revealing more of the horizon. Colors were becoming visible now, and faint stain of green was definitely visible there, along with the contours of mountains and lowlands.

Their own vessel was more clearly visible as well, brass 'feathers' gleaming nearly golden in the pinkish light of the impending sunrise. Scanning the horizon, John caught a glimpse of something else ahead of them as well.

"Look!" John said, pointing out in front of them. "There's the little one; see?" If flew as they did, but with shorter swoops and more rapid wing beats, and its wings flashed brightly in the pre-dawn light.

"Huh," McKay replied, punctuating his comment with a slurp of coffee. "That's an island, there, where the lighthouse is, isn't it?" he asked after a moment.

"Looks like it," John answered.

"And the lighthouse, it looks like it's on the northern shore, doesn't it?" McKay said.

"Seems that way," said John.

"Damn," said McKay, sounding a bit winded. "This could really be the place."

"Cool," was all John said. It was enough. If Zelenka wanted to give McKay a hard time about his doubts later, that would be up to him.

"Well, I'll be..." McKay murmured after another few minutes. "That's definitely Stoddard Island. I can't believe it."

John suppressed a laugh. "You'd better," he said. "We're nearly there and we're gonna need some sort of plan."

"Plan!?" McKay squawked. "Aren't _you_ the plan guy?"

"I thought I was the 'pilot guy'," John retorted, just to rattle McKay's cage a bit. It was too fun to resist.

"What, you can't be the pilot guy _and_ the plan guy?" McKay objected.

"Hate to break it to you," John said, "but I tend to be more of a 'make-it-up-as-I-go-along' sort of guy, rather than a plan guy."

"That's probably just as well, then," McKay replied. "Seeing as we don't actually have a plan."

There was no arguing that point, and now they were drawing close enough to their destination that John -the 'make-it-up-as-I-go-along' guy- figured he ought to be paying attention to the lay of the land, and of the lighthouse where McKay's sister was supposedly ensconced.

The island seem largely, if not entirely, treeless, and the only signs of human habitation were the lighthouse and a small cluster of buildings near it, which John presumed to be the convent. The lighthouse itself was square and squat, with a wide platform surrounding the glass enclosed lantern house and a nearly pyramidal, windowless stone base below. The upper platform, John considered, would be nearly perfect for landing their air craft, but they would lose the element of surprise if anyone happened to be in the lantern house. From here, John couldn't tell if anyone was there or not.

Of course, the very nature of their arrival could very well catch the occupants completely unawares, John considered, trying for an optimistic outlook. The men holding McKay's sister and and the other nuns hostage probably assumed that their position was entirely unassailable, and finding out that this was not true would likely come as a shock.

Their guide bird was now banking to fly a circular course around the lighthouse, before coming to lite on the platform's railing. It glinted brightly in the rising sun, making John wonder just how visible they would be, but it seemed that there wasn't anyone in the lantern house -as far as John could see- and so they remained undetected.

Until they landed, that is.

Zelenka's 'velkee orloob' followed the smaller machine at first, then continued to circle the lighthouse until John remembered that he had to engage the 'landing' lever. As soon as he did, the craft changed its trajectory, swooping in towards the platform and John could hear McKay stifling his panicked yelps. It slowed as it approached the platform, flapping its wings furiously, then dropped with an audibly heavy 'thunk' onto the rail, folded its wings and went still.

They sat in silence for a moment, then John sprang into action, vaulting out of his compartment and onto the platform as lightly as possible. McKay clearly wanted to follow him, but his egress was more complicated, as -with the flying machine perched facing the lighthouse- his compartment was suspended over the its side. It took him a moment, assessing the situation and then deploying the small ladder he'd used to climb in. John, in the mean time, figured that someone must surely be coming to investigate the noise their landing had made, and so dropped into a crouch, making his way cautiously toward the door that lead from the lantern house onto the platform.

Unless whoever it was came out shooting, John figured that the sight of McKay, climbing cautiously out of the orloob, would prove a handy distraction, as it increased the chances that he would overlook John. Sure enough, before McKay had gotten more than one foot on the ladder, a single figure, dressed in black, emerged from below into the lantern house, and immediately turned his gaze to McKay and the giant metal bird perched on the railing.

He looked right past John, who tackled him at the knees as soon as he stepped out onto the platform. It was a solid hit, and the man went down hard, striking his head and knocking himself out cold.

"Well," John said, standing and dusting off his hands as he turned to assist McKay. "That went as well as could have been expected."

McKay only rolled his eyes as he clambered down out of the orloob. "Brilliant," he said. "One down, a completely unknown number of opponents to go."

John shrugged. "I'd be surprised if there's more than three or four guys here keeping the nuns under control," he said quietly, "and at least one of them is almost certainly downstairs with your sister and the Mother superior."

"Great," McKay stage whispered. "So what do we do next?"

"First we secure our 'guide'," John said, directing McKay to where the smaller mechanical bird sat on the rail. Next he headed into the lantern house, grabbing a coil of rope to hand to McKay. "Then, you tie that guy up. I'm gonna check things out downstairs."

"Wait...!" McKay called, but John was already heading towards the stairs. The lantern house was warm and smelled of lamp oil, and the sound of the mechanism which kept the giant lens rotating reminded John of the sound of their recent transport. The stairs descended only a short way into the room below, which was low ceilinged, windowless and lit only with a single lantern. This worked both for and against John, as he was not immediately seen, but also could not immediately see much in the room.

Moving as stealthily as he could, John finally resolved a few features in the chamber below. The single lantern sat on a small table near the center of the space and a single armed man stood near it -his posture tense and his pistol drawn. Nearer the edge of the room John could make out a pair of small beds -cots really- and at their sides two nuns knelt, their heads bowed in prayer.

Creeping further down the stairs, still not sure he'd been seen, John continued to scan the room as his eyes adjusted to the dimness. There was something else he was looking for, he was sure, he just wasn't sure what it was.

"Hold it right there!" So he had been seen. John froze in place, halfway down the stairs.

"Come down where I can see you, hands up!" the voice demanded. "Who the hell are you?" John remained silent and didn't move... and then he saw what he was looking for, on the far side of the room. The faint outlines of an exterior door, its edges traced in light, was visible there. In the mean time the man holding the gun, pointing it in John's general direction, now shifted so that his weapon was aimed at the two nuns -who he could no doubt see better.

"Whoever you are, you've got five seconds to show yourself, or one of these nice ladies is gonna get hurt!" the guard insisted now, but John had the information he needed, and so turned and darted back up the stairs.

Out on the platform, McKay had just finished tying up the first guard John had tackled, and the smaller mechanical bird that had lead them here was nowhere in sight. "They're both down there," John said, inclining his head back in the direction from which he had just come. "And there's only one guard, but he's got a gun and didn't hesitate to threaten them with it."

"He threatened my sister?" McKay replied. "She's down there?"

"There's two nuns down there," John replied, heading for the flying machine. "I didn't get a good look at them, and I have no idea what your sister looks like. What I need you to do right now, McKay, is go down there and distract the guard."

"Distract the guard?" McKay replied indignantly. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"I dunno, talk to him, introduce yourself, whatever you like," John said. "Just keep his mind on you so he doesn't start to think that there might be more than one of us. He didn't get a good look at me, so he'll have no idea."

McKay gave him a silent, scathing look, then shrugged out of his parka and headed for the stairs. John waited beside the orloob for a moment, waiting for the sound of gunfire, and fortunately hearing only McKay's voice.

"Don't shoot!" John could hear him cry out. "I'm Dr Rodney McKay. I'm your... extortee..." Perfect, John thought, climbing up into the flying machine's pilot seat. McKay had set the smaller orloob here, and John quickly dropped it into the passenger compartment, then sat and contemplated the control panel for a moment. Now was no time for experiments, but John was pretty sure that the fastest, safest way down would be to engage the 'landing' lever once more, and so that was just what he did.

The first thing the mechanical bird did was to reverse itself on the railing with a powerful hop that nearly catapulted John from his seat. He was still clinging with a death grip to the sides of the compartment when the thing sprang from the railing, spread it's wings and fluttered to the ground. It took John a second to pry himself loose, once the orloob had come to a rest, but a short while later he was on the ground, dashing toward where a heavily bound wooden door could been seen at the base of the lighthouse.

Of course, John had no way of knowing how or if the thing was locked, and if his gun, or his boot were going to be sufficient to open it. Approaching the door, John had a bad moment thinking that a battering ram might be required, but then, to his great relief, he spotted a key hole. Any latch operated by a key would likely surrender to his Colt.

Of course, the noise would definitely alert everyone inside, so John knew he had to be prepared to act quickly. He unholstered and aimed his weapon, then fired, the sound reverberating around him. The door shuddered under the impact, but did not immediately fall open. John applied a well aimed kick next, and this had the desired effect. The iron bound door swung open, throwing a broad beam of morning sunlight into the shadowy interior.

Once the way was clear John stormed in then hesitated, taking in the tableau before him. McKay and one of the nuns were on the floor -one having apparently urged the other to take cover, though it was not clear who. The other two figures -one nun and their guard- seemed to be engaged in a struggle which apparently involved a wooden chair, and it was difficult to see who was doing what, or where the gun was.

A moment later John saw the gun in the upraised hand of the man who'd been guarding the nuns. He was trying to get a clear shot at anyone, but John had his shot lined up already and a moment later the gun was across the room and the guard was crying out in pain. A moment after that the nun with whom he'd been struggling was up on her feet, wielding the chair with force and accuracy, and then the man was down -out cold from being struck full in the head.

"Merideth!" the other nun cried out now. "Let me up! Mother Superior, are you all right?"

Well, that sorted the nuns' identity, John thought to himself as he stepped forward to relieve the apparent Mother Superior of the, now somewhat worse for wear, chair and then dragged the unconscious guard over to the remaining upright chair, where he could be tied. "Anybody got any rope?" he asked.

There was, in fact, no shortage of rope and John made his introductions as the other nun, presumably McKay's sister, handed him some.

"Captain John Sheppard," he said, taking the coil of rope. "US Lighter than air Cavalry. Honored to meet you ma'am."

"Sister Constance," she replied, looking between him and McKay. "And this is Mother Superior Sophia, the head of Our Lady of Perpetual Illumination convent. We are both very grateful to you for our rescue."

"Happy to be able to do it," John replied. "Any other miscreants you need us to take care of here?"

"There are two other men watching the rest of sisters in the convent," the Mother Superior said, "but now that Sister Constance and I are in no danger, the other sisters will probably be able to manage them -as soon as we let them know."

John figured that if the other nuns were made out of the same stuff as the Mother Superior, then she was probably right.

"Meredith... Captain Sheppard," Sister Constance inquired now. "Just how did you get here?"

'Meredith'? John thought to himself, eyebrows lifting.

"Come on," McKay said, indicating the upstairs, "I'll show you."

"Actually, it's out here now," John said, leading the way out the door. Both nuns stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the velkee orloob sitting on the grass outside.

"Did you..." Sister Constance began, "did you _make_ that, Meredith?"

"Actually," McKay said with a mild grimace, "Dr Zelenka made it, but he didn't want to fly in it."

"Dr Zelenka?" Sister Constance said. "Dr Radek Zelenka? The reclusive Austrian engineer? Mer, how did you..."

"Wait a minute," John interrupted. "Meredith? Is that... That's your name? I thought you said it was..."

"Rodney," McKay cut in. "Meredith Rodney McKay. That's the name my stupid parents gave me, but I go by Rodney. Nobody calls me Meredith... except you." McKay stared daggers at his sister and John laughed out loud.

John went with the Mother Superior a short while later, back to the convent where she was able to get a message to one of the sisters. She passed word that she was free and that they should all meet in a secret sea cave which lay below the convent, and where a boat for emergency escape waited. John locked the two remaining kidnappers in the dinning room while the sisters snuck out, and then went down to the main docks and cut loose the kidnappers' boat. After that he jogged back to find McKay and Sister Constance standing beside the orloob, bickering.

"What do you mean you can't take me anywhere else?" the sister was saying.

"It navigates by some sort of algorithm Zelenka devised," McKay explained, exasperation clear in his voice. "We don't actually... control it."

"You don't actually...?!" The expression on Sister Constance's face shattered all of John's myths about the perpetual serenity of nuns. "And you expect me to go in that thing?"

" _I_ went in it!" McKay countered effectively, and the point gave his sister pause as well. "Look, Jeannie," McKay continued, "I saw the thing for the first time about an hour before we went off to rescue _you._ Zelenka built it, and says he's had passengers in it before and never had any problems. The man may think a bit highly of himself, but he's technically fairly astute, and he's not a liar, _and_ it got us here without a hitch. If I didn't think it was safe, I wouldn't get in it myself, much less ask you to."

"Also, all the other sisters have taken off," John put in, thumbing over his shoulder towards the convent.

"They're all alright?" Sister Constance asked.

"Yep, they're all good," John confirmed. "Your Mother Superior and all the other sisters made it onto the emergency escape boat with no problem. The other two goons are locked in the convent, and I cut their boat loose, but they'll probably bust out in an hour or two, and they're probably gonna be pretty mad when they find out, so we should get going."

"And the only place you can take me is back to your... ship?" asked McKay's sister.

"Sorry ma'am," John said, honestly regretful. "I haven't really had a chance to learn how to pilot this beauty, _yet_ , and at any rate we'd need maps and a sextant to navigate anywhere else. The Daedalus is a fine ship, with perfectly civilized amenities -you wouldn't even be the only woman there."

"Really, Mer?" the nun's look was both hopeful and skeptical.

"Of course," McKay said. "In fact, the leader of our expedition and the Daedalus' chief engineer are both women... though they are also the only women on board."

"Well," Sister Constance (though hadn't McKay called her by some other name?) said, giving a slightly resigned sigh, "I guess it could be worse, though I don't know what I'm going to do with myself..."

"Oh," John recalled the small bundle one of the nuns had place into his hands as they parted company. "Here, I think this is some stuff the other nuns thought you'd need." The Sister's face brightened immediately as she extracted a leather shoulder bag from the bundle of black and white clothing.

"Oh, praise God!" Sister Constance said, peering into the satchel. McKay grimaced. "It's my recent work," the nun continued happily. "The equations and solutions I've been working on! Thank you Lord for my kind and compassionate Sisters for our escape, and bless our voyage and watch over us as we pass through the realm of Your servants, the angels, in Christ's Name, Amen."

Sister Constance finished with bow of her head and crossed herself, entirely ignoring McKay's audible sigh of dismay.

"Oookay," John said, feeling a bit awkward himself. He didn't really count himself as a believer and hadn't been inside a church since his mother had died when he was ten. "We all ready to go then?"

It seemed they were. John had McKay hand him the smaller mechanical bird out of the back seat, which Sister Constance very much wanted a closer look at. "You can pick Zelenka's brains about it all you want, once we're back on the Daedalus," McKay said, handing the thing over and helping his sister into the orloob and onto his lap. He'd apparently collected his parka while waiting for John, and now laid it over the sister's shoulders before she sat. It was a bit of work to get the seat harness fastened over both of them, but McKay explained how necessary it was and eventually they managed it.

At last they were all settled in and John had Zelenka's 'guide bird' in his hands. Holding his breath, almost, John tapped it on its head three times, as instructed, and to his great relief, it 'woke', fluffing its 'feathers' and blinking. Here goes nothing, John thought, drawing another deep breath and then tossing the device aloft with all his might.

"Up you go!" he cried, watching the mechanism catch the air and take wing as perfectly as a living thing. "Fly home, boy! Lead us back to the Daedalus!"

"Lord be praised!" Sister Constance cried out behind him, even as McKay groaned audibly. "It's magnificent!"

"Hang on everyone!" John shouted as he engaged the 'take off' lever and their own flying machine crouched in preparation for its first hop. It occurred to John only then that Zelenka's velkee orloob had made its takeoff from some altitude before, and now it was carrying three passengers. The orloob seemed to be heading toward its own solution, however.

Wings spread and flapping furiously, the flying machine was carrying them, in hops of increasing length and altitude, right towards the edge of the cliffs that bounded the whole island. "Mer? Meredith?" Sister Constance was asking worriedly. "Where are we going? Why aren't we going up?"

"Oh, we're about to..." McKay said, more than a little tense, and then they were off the edge.

(Music cue)

Sister Constance gave a terrified scream as they fell in a rushing swoop through the air, then pulled up abruptly. John heard a sudden flutter of cloth then and, looking back over his shoulder, saw that the nun's wimple had been snatched away by the wind. Sister Constance's hands, no doubt, remained clutching white knuckled to the sides of the compartment, unable to prevent her headgear from departing so abruptly.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" she cried as their flying machine climbed to a comfortable altitude, the island dropping away from them dramatically.

"Take off is always a bit exciting," John explained. "But the rest of our flight should be smooth... God willing," he added at the last minute.

"Amen," said Sister Constance with feeling.

Their craft, following the smaller flying machine, took a curving course along the shore of the island before crossing over the sea, and as they left the island behind them -the lighthouse appearing now as small as a child's toy- they spotted a boat in the water below, making it way towards the mainland. On second glance John saw that it was towing another boat behind it, one he recognized as being the kidnappers' boat which he'd cut loose.

"Hey, it's the Sisters!" John called out, waving to the occupants of the boat below, who probably couldn't see him. Sister Constance peered hesitantly over the side and gasped.

"Saints preserve us!" she said fearfully.

"Oh please!" McKay exclaimed. "It isn't a bunch of dead religious guys keeping us in the air, I can promise you that, and that's something we all ought to be grateful for, because I've consistently found the laws of physics to be far more reliable than any god."

"Okay, siblings!" John announced, putting his foot down. "This conversation, which I'm sure _could_ easily last all five hours of our flight back to the Daedalus, ends right now. Y'all can take it up again when I am _not_ a captive audience."

"Sorry," the two McKays replied in accidental unison. John turned away to hide his laugh.

John was himself thankful, though not to anyone in particular, that the skies to the east, revealed by the climbing sun, remained clear and only lightly dusted with clouds. They gained more altitude as they left the island, and the mainland behind them, and soon came to encounter a few of those clouds.

"Nothing to worry about," John called out behind him. "Though it might get a little cool and moist."

"Thank you Captain," Sister Constance said, and then, "Oh!" as they plunged into and out of the misty interior of a cloud. "It's wet!"

She laughed as she said it, however, and John figured that if she took after McKay she'd be past the shock and fear of the her new flying experience in no time.

"Looks like we got a few more of those coming up," John said, scanning the skies ahead. "Better button up."

"Great," McKay grumbled as John took his own advice. "You're going to nurse me back to health after I get pneumonia, seeing as it's you I've sacrificed my nice, warm coat to."

"Where _did_ you get this coat, Mer?" Sister Constance inquired, ignoring McKay's implied complaint. "The North Pole?"

"The South Pole, actually," he said indignantly, to which the sister had no comment.

They darted in and out of clouds for the next hour or so, then eventually came to a stretch of clear sky, where the bright sun warmed and dried them. Their guide was also occasionally visible as well, as a passing glint against the unbroken expanse of azure around them.

"I see it!" Sister Constance replied excitedly when John pointed it out to her. "And that little flying machine, it actually followed the homing pigeon Meredith sent to the convent? And now we're following it. It truly is a marvel of science and technology, I must admit."

"Wait till you see the Daedalus," John said with a smile. "It's one giant marvel full of other marvels -with over seventy five men and women living and working aboard her, approximately six hundred feet above sea level."

“I do confess,” Sister Constance said after a moment. “Part of me does long to see those things which I have only read about. For so long it seemed that I had to deny myself such temptations… and that I should be content with my work.”

“And why?” McKay asked snidely. “Because some religion tells you that ‘God’ has some plan for you in a backwater convent?”

“No!” McKay’s sister snapped, and now John could hear the old McKay fire in her voice. “Because I was sick of being told that only men could live the life I wanted to live! You’re a ‘genius’, Mer –how many times would _you_ throw yourself against a brick wall before you decided to give it up as a bad idea?”

John kept his peace for a moment or two, in case McKay had a reply, but it seemed he didn’t, and John felt that the Sister ought to have some sort of answer.

“No brick walls on the Daedalus, I promise, ma’am,” he said. “We’re carrying enough weight as it is.” There was no reply at first, and he thought the small joke had fallen flat until he heard a soft snort of laughter from the nun.

“Yeah, but if you’ve got my brother on board,” she said, “then you’ve got an infinite supply of enough hot air to lift all the bricks you like.”

There was a beat and then McKay said, “Hey!” indignantly and John let himself laugh out loud.

It was true, he reflected, as the velkee orloob carried the three of them, swooping and fluttering through the wide and featureless blue sky, that no one on the Daedalus would dare tell McKay’s sister that being a woman made her less intelligent or unsuited to any task she wished to take on, but that didn’t mean that she would be welcomed by all either. Scientists and soldiers were a territorial lot, and more than a few would take exception to her religiosity. Some would no doubt accuse her of being a spy as well, though John was himself convinced that she was not.

He was, however, just as certain as Zelenka seemed to be, that there must be other spies aboard the Daedalus, and the nun could very well be in danger on that front as well. Whoever had wanted to control McKay by holding his sister might be thwarted for now, but having Sister Constance on the Daedalus meant that the opportunity existed for them to use her a a hostage again. It might be for the best if McKay’s sister made sure she was never alone on the Daedalus.

Of course, better still would be if they were able to smoke out their on-board spy –or spies- toss them in the brig and possibly even get them to tell who they were working for. John’s money was still on the Confederacy, but he was aware of his own bias. Zelenka had his biases too and truthfully, either one of them might be right, or they might both be wrong. The question at the heart of it all was who had the greater interest in what the Daedalus and their expedition might discover, but there were far too many unknown variables in that equation to even hazard a guess.

Nonetheless, John found himself thinking deeply on that very question as the hours slipped by and they drew nearer (hopefully) to the Daedalus. John had learned during his time in the war that there are occasions in which questions of your immediate future, when it’s something you can’t do anything about, are best put aside until that future actually arrives. It was for that reason that John did not even begin to ponder the question of how likely it was that these mechanical marvels of Zelenka’s would actually bring them to the Daedalus –a tiny, moving speck, sailing high above the wide, empty sea.

John knew that McKay was smart enough to have arrived at the same question, but he wouldn’t say anything, so as not to worry his sister, only if his sister was anything like as smart as McKay said, she’d have come to wonder the same thing too. The fact that she hadn’t asked about it yet told John that she’d probably figured out that they wouldn’t have any answers.

The Daedalus' silvery lift vessel, which was the largest part of the airship, would be the least noticeable part, blending into the surrounding sky as though it were invisible. Still, with the sun above and behind them now, John's first sight of it was the faintest, passing glimmer of white in the empty sky before them. It lasted only a second, and he said nothing till he saw it again, and then once more and was finally able to make out the tiny black spec of the wooden passenger vessel suspended below.

"There it is!" he cried, pointing to the barely visible airship, far in the distance and feeling a profound wave of relief. "There's the Daedalus!"

"Oh thank God," McKay said, utterly heartfelt, before he realized who would hear him say it.

"God be praised indeed," Sister Constance said, smug but also very much relieved. "And Dr Zelenka be praised as well. If it can truly be said that science can produce miracles, then this is most certainly one."

"Amen," said John, because what else was there to say, really?

*****


	4. Chapter 3: In which Our Heroes return to the Daedalus, Major Lorne comes to certain conclusions And Sister Constance is given a position on the expedition

**Chapter 3**

  
**"Airship pilots are a new breed of men, unlike any that our history has produced in previous times.  They must possess the daring and recklessness not unlike the the explorers and adventurers of old, but they must, at the same time, be men, or women, of discipline, science and learning.  These virtues, as we have seen in such men as Sheppard, Lorne and even Sam Carter, should instruct us all in what the future may require of all men."**  
 _  
-General Stephen Caldwell, commencement address, West Point, class of 1900 _

 

~~~~

 

Evan Lorne was proud of what he had a achieved in his career, and not without reason. When he'd first been told he was being considered for the position of the Daedalus' First Mate, he'd been confident, though not certain, of his posting, and the day it was confirmed was one of the proudest of his life. Were he an ambitious man, Evan might expect a captaincy of his own in a couple of years, and if he remained with the Daedalus he could well have Caldwell's position when he retired. All in all, a fine achievement for the third son of a textile merchant. 

Being the youngest offspring of a self made man meant that he'd been expected either to succeed or to fail spectacularly, both courses having been paved for him by his older brothers. The eldest had become everything his father could have wished and was even now masterfully heading up the family business; the second son had gone west to seek his fortune and found instead an unfortunate taste for prostitutes and cards, and Evan had made a more conservative and, he hoped, more rewarding career choice in the military.

Of course, there were risks to becoming an artillery officer in a time of war, but Lorne was a careful, conscientious officer, and these virtues kept him alive, and got him noticed -in a good way. One must continue to take risks to get ahead in the military, but they can be calculated risks, such as the one Lorne took when he accepted Major Sheppard's invitation to train for the army's new Lighter-than-air Cavalry. It had been a good move for him, and he'd come to love flying, almost as much as Sheppard did.

It had, however, lead Lorne to the one risk he'd taken in his career which was not calculated, and that was to let Sheppard become more than his commanding officer and teacher in the ways of lighter-than-air craft. To this day Lorne could not say if he regretted it or not, for though nothing bad had ever come to him directly from this decision, there remained one troubling, unanswered question about his relationship with John Sheppard -a question which, until recently, Evan had assumed might never be answered.

He'd thought he'd been about to discover the truth, as to whether what stood between the two of them was only about physical gratification, or something more, when Sheppard had taken very great risks indeed, to find him and rescue him from the Confederate forces, into whose hands Evan had fallen one unfortunate day, late in 1869. He'd come to rescue all of Evan's crew, but in the end only the two of them had survived, and barely, at that.

Later, Evan would learn that John had been tortured while in Confederate hands, and had then managed to free himself before coming to find and free Evan and his lone surviving crewmate, but even that hadn't counted for much in the eyes of Sheppard's superiors. The reason given for this had been that John had gone on his rescue mission without permission, and had taken an airship carrying top secret spying equipment to do it. Evan believed without reservation John's oath, that he had completely destroyed said equipment after the airship had crashed behind enemy lines, but the officers at Sheppard's court martial had not possessed such faith.

The court martial had taken place while Evan remained recovering in the hospital, and by the time he'd finally gotten out, John was already gone. The trial had resulted in a reprimand and reduction of rank, but John had evidently elected to resign his commission altogether. Evan learned this and little else in a brief note John had left in his quarters, saying that he'd had some sort of family crisis back in Texas, and no one had been able to tell him anything further. John Sheppard had gone, and from that day till the day of the launching of the Daedalus Evan Lorne had heard not one word from the man.

Then, three weeks ago, he had appeared in the company of Dr Weir, Dr McKay, and Dr Zelenka. Evan had been stunned at first, scarcely able to believe he was seeing the man after so many years. The second thing he'd felt was vindication, as he saw that he was serving with the reduced rank of Captain, disproving all those who'd claimed that Sheppard had resigned out of arrogance, refusing to serve with a rank lower than he'd bought in with.

If Sheppard was willing to serve at the rank of Captain now, he'd have been willing fifteen years ago, but that raised the question then -why _had_ Sheppard resigned? Now, all the old questions that Lorne had laid aside so many years ago were returning, and they all lead back to the first -what had John felt about him then, and now... what in God's name could John Sheppard be thinking about him now?

Lorne wasn't even sure he knew what _he_ felt about Sheppard now, and that was the main reason why, for the last three weeks, Evan Lorne had been content to not find himself alone with Sheppard at any time. Sooner or later, one of them was going to have to break, and go out of his way to corner the other and initiate the conversation. The Daedalus wasn't that big and they were going to be together for some time to come yet. Still, Evan had thought there'd be time, for him to reach some sort of conclusion or for Sheppard to make some sort of move.

And then yesterday, John Sheppard, that bastard, had gone and disappeared. He'd taken the expedition's head scientist with him too, and the only one who seemed to know anything was Zelenka who, according to Dr Weir, was being 'coy'. Coy. Evan Lorne found himself balanced on a knife's edge between fury and terror, and would have liked very much to shake the 'coy' right out of the little, foreign scientist, but Dr Weir would never have it.

Zelenka did, apparently, expect them back before too long, which was the only thing keeping Evan sane for the moment. Evan told himself forcefully that he'd travelled with Zelenka, and knew him to be level headed and trustworthy, and if the doc wasn't worried, then there was no cause for him to be, but it was little more than a straw to clutch at. The fact that Sheppard had gone off on some experimental flying machine which Evan had never even seen, seemed too much like history repeating itself, and the last time that history hadn't ended all that well for Sheppard.

Also like the last time, Evan was finally forced to conclude, there really wasn't all that much of a question about how he felt about Sheppard, either. Evan had wanted him then, as more than a casual fuck, and now that Sheppard was back in his life, Evan realized that his feelings hadn't changed. So that question was settled, at least, and now Evan was ready to take the bull by the horns and confront Sheppard directly, manly stoicism be damned. He would have his answer, one way or another... as soon as the foolhardy idiot returned from whatever insanely dangerous mission he'd gone on.

There were, of course, already lookouts stationed above, both fore and aft, but Evan had no place better to be during the afternoon watch, and so ensconced himself up by the pigeon loft around mid afternoon to see what he could see for himself. It was sometime after seven bells -near the end of the watch- that Evan heard the forward lookout sing out from his perch just below the prow of the lift vessel.

"Unknown air craft approaching to port, bearing west-southwest," he cried. "Don't think it's a lighter-than-air craft, no lift vessel visible."

Evan was squinting in the direction the lookout had named when he was startled by an odd, mechanical fluttering sound just off his right shoulder. Whirling to look, he saw a bird come to perch on the ridge above the pigeon cote... and then he had to blink hard, because the creature seemed to be made entirely of metal. A score of questions about the thing were just beginning to form themselves in his mind when a number were answered by the sound of approaching footsteps coming up the ladder to the pigeon cote, and the sight of the disordered hair and spectacles of Dr Zelenka, appearing on the platform with him.

"Vyborně!" he cried happily, reaching up to pluck the unresisting bird from the top of the cote.

"What the hell, Doc?" was all that Evan was able to manage.

"It is my 'orlub'," the scientist explained. "Mechanical homing pigeon, which is acting as guide for larger mechanical bird which carries Sheppard and McKay, and possibly McKay's sister."

"McKay's sister?" Evan asked.

"Is not my story to tell," Zelenka answered infuriatingly. "But they will be here shortly, I think, so you may ask them yourself."

Evan could only stare, wordlessly at the device in Zelenka's hand before finally turning to scan the sky for the approaching flying machine the lookout had reported. It was readily visible now, clearly a larger version of the mechanical bird Zelenka had collected from the top of the pigeon cote, and it was moving rapidly, so that it would likely arrive at the Daedalus in a minute or two. Evan followed Zelenka down the stairs to the main deck, and found a relative crowd had gathered there. Naturally, they were all assembling by the port side rail, which wasn't enough to make the Daedalus list, but was enough to make Captain Caldwell a touch uneasy.

"Should I have them disperse?" Lorne asked as he came up to where his captain stood, hands clasped anxiously behind his back.

"No, that won't be necessary," he said with a sigh. "They'll all move when the thing comes in to land in a few seconds."

Evan nodded, and in fact, people were moving already, as the flying machine -close enough now that its three passengers had become visible- seemed to be flying around the Daedalus as a prelude to landing on her. It was going to be a trick, Evan saw, to navigate around all the various lines and stays running between the Daedalus and her lift vessel, and a misstep could mean disaster for either the flying machine's passengers, or the Daedalus.

Caldwell had to be thinking the same thing, and he frowned deeply as he watched the flying machine, flapping its wings furiously, slow and approach the Daedalus' stern. In spite of himself, Evan found himself drawing a sharp breath as the thing made a sudden swoop in and down towards the quarterdeck, then the whole ship shuddered ever so slightly as the flying machine settled with a thunk onto the deck, folded its wings and fell still.

"God be praised!" said a woman's voice from the flying machine, followed immediately by Mckay's unmistakable grumble, "Oh for Pete's sake..."

Evan laughed, both with relief and at McKay's complaint, smiling to see that it was Zelenka who managed to race up the stairs to the quarterdeck before anyone else.

"Zelenka!" Now Sheppard was visible, having extracted himself from the flying machine and leaped down to the deck. "You're a God da... I mean, you're an amazing genius. You absolutely have to let me learn how to fly this thing properly. It's like a dream come true!"

Headed up to the quarterdeck himself -along with everyone else, Evan wondered what had compelled Sheppard to check his language, then saw the woman he was now helping down from the flying machine's rear compartment. Her blond hair was disordered and windblown, but as she emerged Evan could see that she was dressed as a nun. Of course, he recalled as he reached the quarterdeck, it was McKay's sister -just as Zelenka had predicted.

Now, of course, the quarterdeck was becoming crowded with more and more people, and Evan's desire to get a word in private with Sheppard had to be put aside while he attended to his job as First Mate. At this moment, that meant clearing the way for Dr Weir and Captain Caldwell to get up to the quarterdeck and keeping folks back while they got a word in with Sheppard, McKay and McKay's sister first. The latter, who was being introduced as Sister Constance, met everyone and it was decided that all five of them, along with Sumner, should meet in the officers' mess shortly, for a full debrief.

Lorne took point, to clear a path for the ladies to proceed directly to the mess, while Caldwell went to find Sumner and Sheppard said he needed to make a trip to the head (as it had been a long flight). Lorne followed him at a distance, down to the seldom visited corridors beneath the Daedalus' bow. He knew perfectly well what a lowly tactic it is to ambush a man coming out of the head, but he was past caring. He'd sworn that he would take the first opportunity to say what he needed to say to Sheppard, and this was it.

"Major," Sheppard said as he emerged a moment later and met Lorne, blocking the narrow passage.

"This... this flying off on dangerous rescue missions without telling anyone," Evan said, brazenly ignoring rank and protocol. "Is it some sort of compulsion for you?"

Sheppard gazed at him through narrowed eyes, assessing the situation warily. "Actually, the not telling anyone was Zelenka's idea," he said finally. "But his reasoning was sound. McKay was being blackmailed and his sister held hostage. It seemed reasonable to take precautions against the possibility that there might be other spies on board."

"And _you_ had to be the one to go, why?" Evan hadn't meant to go off on the man, but Sheppard's frostily distant demeanor had him suddenly furious.

"Because McKay asked me," Sheppard said, "and frankly, I was bored. Look, Major, if I'm going to catch hell for this it's going to come from Weir and not you or Caldwell. You're not in my chain of command."

"This isn't about chain of command, John," Evan hissed furiously. "This... this is about your doing crazy shit that could get you killed and apparently thinking that no one will care!"

Now Sheppard seemed taken aback, and his uncaring facade slipped a bit. "What the hell, Major?"

"Do you think it meant nothing, what you did for me? You saved my life! You think I've forgotten that?" Evan asked, even as he winced inwardly at John's addressing him by his rank. "And what we had before, was it nothing to you? Was it so easy to leave it all behind and forget about me -about us- when you ran off to Texas?"

John gaped at him in shock, and for a long moment he seemed struck speechless. "Jesus, Evan," he said at last. "I figured you probably hated my guts and never wanted to hear from me again. I... I thought about writing, but the Secret Service monitors the mail going between the Union and the Republic of Texas..."

"Yeah," Evan said, all the anger running out of him as suddenly as it had come. "That's why I didn't write anything either... and I called myself a coward for it."

"You still had a career to protect, Evan," John said. "I'd never blame you for that. I... my father was dying, and I thought at first that I'd just put the whole ranch business in order and head back north... but stuff kept coming up... and I hated myself for bailing on you... and on flying."

"Christ, John," Evan said. "Why didn't you tell me your father had died? Dammit, I'd have gone with you if you'd told me."

"That was _why_ I didn't tell you, Evan," John replied. "I was persona non-grata in the Army, and hanging out with me wouldn't have done your career any favors. Going with me to a one time Confederate allied territory would have been a death knell."

"So I'm not allowed to sacrifice my career," Evan said, "but you're allowed to sacrifice your life?"

"It wasn't like that," John protested. "Zelenka's orloob... that flying machine... look, I'll take you up in it myself. It's not dangerous... in fact it's a serious rush. You'll love it, I swear."

"I probably will," Evan said, "but that's not the point. The point is that, from where I'm standing, it looks like you trust Zelenka but you don't trust me."

"I'd given you every reason _not_ to trust me," John said with a bleakly fatalistic shrug. "I've always taken that kind of thing to be mutual."

The hopeless resignation in John's voice shook Evan, derailing his argument for a moment, but he was not going to be deterred now.

"Okay, you probably wouldn't be wrong about that, in... other circumstances," he eventually said with a sigh. "But, the thing is... it's not just about trust for me. It's about more than that... and it always was." Now they were finally dancing around the thing that neither one of them dared say directly, but from the shuttered, hopeful look in John's eyes, Evan had reason to think he understood.

"And... is it still...?" he asked.

"Yes," Evan said, daring himself to speak the plain truth, but still not quite brave enough to meet John's eyes as he spoke. "And maybe I'm a fool for feeling that way, but when I tried to tell myself that, after so many years, I must feel differently... then you disappeared and... and it scared the living shit out of me John."

Even in the dim light of this lower corridor, Evan could see John's throat work. He was more than familiar with John's general reticence, and prepared to be patient, so he waited for him to find words he could actually speak.

"Crap," he finally managed, and then, "I didn't know... I swear, Evan..." He shook his head, then drew a resolved breath, grabbed Evan's shoulders and drew him in for a brief, fierce kiss.

"I gotta go," John said as Evan struggled to regain his breath. "The debriefing..." Evan nodded, and took note that John had not released him yet.

"Think of someplace we can meet, after dinner," John continued, "or I'll think of someplace, and we'll meet; we'll figure this out, okay?"

"Okay," Evan finally managed. "Okay, John."

Evan told himself that he remained while John left in order to hide the fact that they'd been together, but the fact was that he was a little stunned, and not sure what to do with himself. Though they neither one of them had said the word, they'd both made their own declarations, which was considerably more than Evan had expected.

Thinking about it, about John's heated kiss, the open pain in his eyes as Evan had confessed his terror, made Evan's head spin. He'd told himself he was a fool for thinking that John might still care... or that he'd ever cared, but it seemed now that he did, and perhaps always had.

Now, however, was not the time to lose himself in such musings. He, like John, had duties to attend to, and if there were truly spies aboard the Daedalus, his duties included protecting the Daedalus' passengers from them. McKay and his sister seemed the likeliest targets and while Colonel Sumner, the head of the Marines on board, would certainly be putting his men on to this task, Evan needed to alert the Daedalus' crew to the same thing.

Bringing his thoughts to bear on the task at hand, Evan Lorne set himself in motion, to do his duty and leave his heart's concerns for the future -just not too far in the future, he hoped.

**

Other Captains Elizabeth knew of employed a secretary for tasks like keeping various logs and meeting minutes, but Caldwell disdained such. He preferred to make his own notes which, Elizabeth supposed, made his logs considerably more reliable and informative than most, but it also meant an occasionally slow start to meetings.

At the moment that was all to the good, as it allowed Sheppard time for his trip to the head, and for Sumner to arrive and for her to introduce their new passenger to the only other female on board -ship's engineer, Lt Lindsey Novak. Happily, the two seemed to hit it off right away and Elizabeth left the two of them in her quarters to quickly returned to the officer's mess, where she found Sheppard and Zelenka waiting obediently outside.

"You have a found a place for McKay's sister to stay?" Zelenka asked as soon as he saw her.

"I've decided to share my cabin," Elizabeth said with a smile. "seeing as I have the most room to spare. For the present, however, the Captain would like your account of exactly how she came to join us."

"Samozřejmě," Zelenka said agreeably and went in to join Caldwell and Sumner. Sheppard lingered, however, exchanging a glance with Lorne, who stood at the helm nearby, and then turning to address her.

"Dr Weir, I want you to know that I'll take full responsibility for my actions," he said. "If Sumner or Caldwell want to give me a reaming for this, you don't have to protect me. I didn't consult you or anyone else before I went, and that's my mistake, not yours."

"True," Elizabeth said, "but I am the one who chose to take you along, knowing your record -which clearly shows that this is exactly the sort of thing you are liable to do. That does really put a portion of the responsibility on my shoulders."

Sheppard gave her a long measuring look but saw only determination there, and so gave in with a resigned sigh. He turned to go in just as one of the kitchen stewards appeared with the coffee tray, holding the door open for him and Elizabeth before entering himself.

Caldwell was just finishing his notes and McKay was engrossed in some notations he was making in his own notebook. Zelenka had found a place next to him and was peering over his shoulder to see it, not very subtly, but it still took several moments for McKay to notice. He slammed the notebook shut when he did, giving Zelenka a silent glare, but the Czech only returned a playful smile and sat back in his chair.

"Thank you for waiting, gentlemen," Caldwell said, looking up from his own notes. "Now that this little escapade of yours has concluded, and McKay's sister is presumably safe on board, I'd like very much to know exactly what took place. I was promised a full disclosure by some of you," his gaze was now directed clearly at Zelenka, "and others of you disembarked the Daedalus without notifying any senior staff -and I believe I'm entitled to an explanation of why."

He paused for objections here and none came, though Sumner took the moment to make a request of his own. "Shouldn't McKay's sister be here?" he asked. "If you want a full disclosure about what happened..."

Caldwell waved this suggestion off. "I believe Sister Constance has been through enough, for now," he said, stressing her name. "I'm disinclined to put her through an interrogation to add to it. _If_ it seems further information from her is needed," he continued, speaking over Sumner when it appeared he would object, "I'll have Dr Weir speak to her in private."

Sumner seemed less than content at this, but kept his peace, and Caldwell moved on. 

"Very well," he said. "I believe I'd like to hear from Dr Zelenka first."

The closer they got to the actual business of laying out the facts, Elizabeth had been noticing, the unhappier McKay seemed to be getting. He glanced anxiously over at Zelenka now, and then turned to stare down the table, frowning.

"I suppose," Zelenka began, steepling his fingers nervously, but meeting Caldwell's eyes nonetheless, "I should begin by saying that I have become, in the last few decades of my life, a very suspicious man -perhaps more than is... healthy. I say this because I would not want it to be thought that I find your own security measures insufficient." He turned to Rodney briefly, pushing up his glasses nervously before he spoke.

"I... I am not proud of my actions in this, Dr McKay," he said, much to McKay's evident surprise. "Even if they resulted in a good outcome... I was doing the very thing I accused you of -spying, and only to satisfy my own curiosity and... paranoia."

Elizabeth had never actually seen McKay gape before, but he was certainly doing so now, eyes wide and mouth open as if to speak, though no words emerged for several moments.

"Um... apology accepted, I guess," he finally managed. "And, ah, thanks for... handling it, the way you did."

Zelenka flashed McKay a brief appreciative smile before Caldwell intruded impatiently.

"And just _how_ did you 'handle it', Dr Zelenka," he prompted.

Pushing his glasses up once more, Zelenka then launched into a succinct account of how he had followed McKay and then sent his 'orlub' to follow McKay's message. When he got to the part where he confronted McKay, however, Caldwell interrupted.

"Now you, McKay, tell me about what happened to your sister." he said.

"Right," McKay said unhappily, taking a long drink of coffee before continuing. "So... I got the first message from her kidnappers in the last mail packet that came before we cast off from DC."

"And you didn't see fit to let anyone else know?" Sumner leaped in. McKay flinched slightly, then seemed to gather himself.

"And you would have done what!?" he snapped, leaning across towards the Marine Colonel. "Sent the Marines? To Nova Scotia!?"

"Let's hold that question for now, Colonel," Caldwell interjected. "Dr McKay, do you still have the letter they sent?"

"Of course not," McKay said with a scowl. "I may not be a brilliant spy, but I'm still not stupid. I destroyed it as soon as I had read it thoroughly." Caldwell sighed.

"I'm assuming then, that this letter contained something which convinced you that the threat against your sister was real?" he asked.

"Well, it was in her handwriting, to start with," McKay replied, "and she'd managed to include a coded message -something we'd worked out between ourselves years ago. It included a few details, like where she was being kept, and confirmed that the threat was serious."

"But not any information about who was behind it all?" Sumner asked, ignoring Caldwell's request to hold his questions.

"Oh, yes, because kidnappers are such open and chatty people," McKay retorted. "I'm sure they were happy to share about who was paying them, and why, and she probably jut forgot to mention it." He paused to aim a whithering glare at the Colonel.

"All they said they wanted from me were regular reports on where we were and what we were doing on the Daedalus," he continued. "The letter said that they already knew we were headed for the hollow Earth, but didn't give any indication that they knew what we expected to find there. Yes, I've already worked out that there must be someone else on the Daedalus spying for them, because otherwise I could be writing complete crap and they'd have no way of checking, and also the pigeons I've been sending probably won't be able to find their way from inside the hollow Earth, so they'd need to have someone on board to get anything after that."

"And the men you encountered at the convent?" Caldwell asked. "Were you able to learn anything from them?"

"You mean were they wearing Confederate Uniforms?" McKay asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Gee, I guess I must have forgotten to mention it! No, of course they weren't, and they didn't seem to feel like sharing much while we were hitting them on the head and tying them up, either!"

"I don't much care for your tone, Doctor," Sumner replied now, temper fraying.

"And I don't much care for your face, Colonel," McKay snapped back, even as Elizabeth moved to try and calm him. "But it's a cross we all have to bear..."

"Dr McKay," Elizabeth finally interceded. "Please, these are questions that need to be asked, and the more quickly and simply you answer them the quicker you can be done with this meeting."

McKay gave a dramatically petulant sigh and turned his gaze to  
Sumner and Caldwell again. "Fine," he said. "What else do you want to know?"

Sumner looked to be fuming still, but Caldwell had one more question. "Do you have any personal suspicions, Dr McKay, or any theories about who might be responsible for your sister's kidnapping?" McKay shrugged.

"The most obvious assumption would be that the Confederacy is behind this," he said, "but Zelenka thinks it could be the Prussian Kaiser, and maybe he's right. Without any more information it's all just speculation."

"Have you any evidence, Dr Zelenka," Sumner put in now, "that the Kaiser was responsible for McKay's extortion?" Now it was Zelenka who shrugged.

"Evidence, no," he said. "Only history. Kaiser Wilhelm has always been covetous of others' technical advances, and will stop at nothing to acquire them."

"And you really think his reach could extend across the Atlantic?" Caldwell asked.

"I am sure he would like it to," Zelenka said. "I myself have no idea if it is possible, however."

There followed this comment a quiet pause, in which everyone seemed to be waiting to see if anyone else had any follow-up questions. When they didn't, Sumner spoke up. "You've been awfully quiet Sheppard," he pointed out, some sort of insubordination implied in his tone, Elizabeth thought.

"Just waiting my turn," Sheppard replied coolly.

"Fair enough," said Caldwell. "I'd say we're ready now to hear how and when you became involved in this affair."

"Yes sir," Sheppard said, deferential, but casually so. "First I knew about any of this was when McKay came to the officers' barracks and said he needed a pilot. I, ah, hadn't had much to do on the journey so far, so I went along. In retrospect, once I saw that we'd be leaving the Daedalus, I probably should have notified Dr Weir, but McKay and Zelenka seemed to be in a hurry... and I kinda got caught up in things."

"Why Dr Weir?" Sumner asked abruptly.

"She's _my_ immediate superior, sir," Sheppard answered, and now Elizabeth could hear the insolence lurking just below Sheppard's words.

"So, it's not because you suspect Captain Caldwell or myself of being spies?" Sumner asked now, his hostility as close to the surface as Sheppard's lack of respect.

"No sir," Sheppard replied. "Though any spy on board the Daedalus might very well be watching you or Captain Caldwell or Dr Weir, for that matter. I do take responsibility for my own actions, but I also took things like that into consideration when I agreed to Dr Zelenka's request that I contact no one before we left."

"You take responsibility for your actions," Sumner said after a moment. "but you aren't accountable to me for them. Explain to me how that works, Sheppard."

"He's accountable to me, Colonel," Elizabeth stepped in quickly. "And this is not going to happen again, Sheppard, is it?" She turned a hard gaze onto the pilot, who looked unhappy, but not exactly compliant.

"And by 'this', you mean?" he inquired.

"Your leaving the Daedalus without notifying me or anyone else as to why or how long," she answered. "I realize that that I haven't made this a clear stipulation before, and that, given your record, I probably ought to have, but I'm making it clear now." Sheppard's look grew unhappier still, but no more compliant, Elizabeth saw to her disappointment.

"I appreciate your position, Dr Weir," he said. "I honestly do, but there may not always be time or opportunity..."

"I'm sure you'll find a way," she interrupted, in a tone that brooked no opposition. The gaze she directed at Sheppard was steely now, as she knew how to make it, and Sheppard along with everyone else at the table fell silent.

"Understood," Sheppard said at last, still unhappy, but compliant at last. Elizabeth had a feeling that this wasn't the last time she'd have to rein in her expedition pilot, but she was confident that she was more than equal to the task.

"Very well," Caldwell said. "Are there any more questions on this matter?" Sumner looked like he'd like to keep at it for a little while longer, but couldn't think of any reason to give, so he nodded, and at this signal McKay stood abruptly.

"Thank God," he said, then flinched as he caught himself invoking a deity he supposedly didn't believe in. Elizabeth hid a smirk, and wondered if having a nun on board would cause any of the Daedalus' crew to watch their tongues, or how shocked Sister Constance might, or might not, be when they didn't.

Were she inclined to gamble, Elizabeth would put money on the sailors' language not changing one iota, and on Sister Constance letting it all roll off her, without so much as a blink. She was McKay's sister, after all.

***

Evan Lorne found the hours passing swiftly until after dinner -so swiftly that he realized he hadn't yet thought of a private place to meet up with John. John evidently had, however, as Evan found a note slipped under his napkin during dinner which read only 'Zelenka's machine shop, three bells, second dog-watch.'

They'd definitely have to find a different way of contacting each other after this, Evan reflected as he ate his dinner, as the all the ship's crew and passengers were now on the lookout for spies, and such notes would only look suspicious. Still, it was a good choice of location, as Zelenka's flying machine had been winched back down to his machine shop and Evan was, in all honesty, quite keen to learn how it worked.

Zelenka was still there, in fact, when Evan made his way down just as the third bell of the second dog-watch was heard throughout the ship. He and Sheppard were speaking animatedly as he approached, but the Czech scientist cut himself off as he saw Evan draw near. There was a knowing warmth in his smile as he made his farewells and Evan realized that he had to be, in some way, complicit in their use of his machine shop for their rendezvous.

"You told him?" Evan asked John once Zelenka had disappeared up the ladder to the upper decks. Sheppard shrugged.

"He kinda guessed, mostly," he replied. "But everyone knows about him and Tesla, so I figure we can trust him."

Indeed, even Evan knew of the history between Radek Zelenka and the infamous Serbian inventor, but he hadn't thought to see it in that light before, nor to regard Zelenka as an ally in that way. He nodded to John, figuring that he was probably right about Zelenka's trustworthiness.

Now that they had established that they were more or less secure, Evan found that he had no idea how to proceed. Were they here to talk things over further, or did John just want to get physical? Evan himself was torn, feeling sure that quite a lot needed to be discussed still, and at the same time wanting badly to see the fulfillment of the promise implied in John's kiss.

"So..." he began as the silence stretched awkwardly. John silenced him with a lifted hand and pulled up a crate to sit on.

"You... you were the one with enough guts to make the first move," he said as Evan found another crate for himself. "So I figure it's on me now... and I can't help feeling like I need to say I'm really sorry, again."

Evan would have broken in here but John shook his head and so Evan let him carry on.

"I'm not going to belabor the point," he continued, "but I want you to know that _I_ know just how badly I screwed up. Yes, it was a bad time for both of us, but that's just an excuse, and I've never held with excuses from anyone else." John sighed then, reaching back to rub at the back of his neck as though it pained him, and Evan found that he very much wanted to put his own hands there and ease John's pain.

"I wanna do whatever I have to to make things right between us," he went on. "Right like it wasn't before, because I never once told you how I really felt, and after the first few months... you were owed that at least."

"Hey, if I was owed, then you were too," Evan finally interjected. "And I never said anything either. I might have thought I wanted to say something after you rescued me, but I had all the same chances to speak up before then that you did, and I was just as much of a coward."

Sheppard made a face as though he'd tasted something bitter, then gave a resigned sigh. "Is it too fucked up that I want it all to be my fault?" he said eventually.

"No," Evan said, letting an affectionate smile bloom fully on his face. "But it is completely you. Look," Evan said, standing to push his crate over next to the man he wished very much to be his lover, and boldly taking John's hand in his. "I'm just gonna come out and say it. I love you -everything about you, including the crazy screwed up stuff that you think makes you're... I dunno, undeserving, somehow."

Evan felt John tense beside him, as though preparing to bolt, but Evan held his hand firmly and John remained seated.

"I always got the feeling, before, like you felt you didn't deserve anyone good in your life," Evan continued. "But I gotta tell you, I am one hundred percent convinced that you are exactly who I deserve, for all the good reasons and the bad ones. I don't want anyone 'better', John. I want you, and no one else."

There wasn't much light in the machine shop, but there was enough that Evan could see that John's eyes were cast down, staring at their joined hands. "And your career?" he finally asked, barely audibly. "Because one of these days they're gonna make you chose between it and me."

Lorne gave the question a moment of thought, even though he was pretty sure he knew how he felt about it. "I really hope they don't," he said in the end. "Because they may not get the answer they expect, but I really don't think it's likely to come to that -not in the SPB."

"We're both still in the US military, Evan," John pointed out. "The regulations we agreed to are the same, whether we're attached to the SPB or not."

"On paper, sure," Evan said, "but you've been with the SPB a couple of years now, John, you've heard what they say. Like, 'What happened to Captain Sam Carter when they found out he was a girl?'" It was something like an old joke, that wasn't a joke, widely known in the SPB, and Sheppard would have surely heard it by now.

"Okay, yeah, 'Nothing'," John gave the well known answer. "But she's... Sam Carter."

"And you're you, and I'm me," Evan said. "We've each got unique talents, and the SPB needs all of them. Besides, O'Neil is no prude. All he cares about is that we get the job done, whatever it is. And you can't tell me you haven't heard the rumors about Director West and Agent Gordon."

"Well, yeah, but they're just rumors..." John said skeptically.

"Mmm... not so much," Evan replied. "I was on a mission a few years ago with a guy who rode with them, back when they were still in the Secret Service, and I guess it was pretty obvious, even back then."

"Really..." John rocked back on his crate a little. "It all seems... a kinda too good to be true." he finally said.

"Seemed that way to me too," Evan said, "till the first mission I had where one of my team mates got possessed by a Goa'uld. There's a reason they let us bend a lot of rules in the SPB, 'cause the days when it isn't too good to be true, it can be too bad to be believed."

"So what are the chances we'll run into that kind of shit where we're going?" John asked.

"Given the SPB's track record? I'd say a hundred percent," Evan answered. "A hundred and ten percent, if that was mathematically possible."

"Right," John said. "I guessed I've missed a lot of that kind of action, hanging out on the Apollo."

"Some," Evan said, "but don't sweat it. When my team and I are down in some swamp or jungle, fighting off zombies or cultists, knowing that the Apollo is up there somewhere, sailing to our rescue, makes hanging on, one more day or one more hour possible, believe me."

"Fair enough," John said with a grin. "So... what you're saying is that the future is uncertain at best, and unspeakably horrific at worst?"

"Pretty much," Evan said, answering John's grin with one of his own.

"Personal time may be at a premium, therefore?" John inferred, moving closer and toying with the top button of Evan's uniform.

"Definitely at a premium," Evan said, leaning in to brush his lips gently against John's.

"Making hay while the sun shines, so to speak..." John continued, slipping an exploratory hand inside Evan's, now open, uniform shirt, "probably a good idea, then?"

"Without a doubt..." Evan said, drawing an anticipatory breath as he kissed his way down John's neck to his collar bone.

"Sounds..." John said, interrupted with a little gasp a Evan's teeth found his ear lobe. "Sounds like a plan..."

"Oh yeah..." Evan said, formulating his own plans, even as he was sure John was formulating his. Evan suspected that both their plans could be carried out concurrently without difficulty, and, as they soon discovered, this was exactly the case.

 

****

 

Elizabeth found Sister Constance standing on the main deck, wind blowing her long blond hair back forcefully as she clung with both hands to the railing before her. With the bright morning sun falling on her features, Elizabeth could see how strikingly she resembled her brother, and could not help but wonder at how they had come to follow such divergent lives.

"Good morning, Sister," Elizabeth called. coming to stand beside her.

"Oh, Elizabeth!" the nun seemed startled from some reverie. "Good morning to you as well. I hope sleeping in a hammock last night was not too much of an inconvenience."

Since there was only one bunk built into her room, Elizabeth had gotten a spare hammock from ship's stores and the Daedalus' carpenter had set a pair of hooks on her walls to hang it on, so that she could sleep there while Sister Constance took her cot.

"Not at all," Elizabeth said. "Though I haven't slept in a hammock since I was a little girl, reading and dozing away summer afternoons in our back garden. I trust you also slept well?"

"That I did, Elizabeth, and thank you so much for sacrificing your bed," Sister Constance replied. "I've no doubt a hammock can be comfortable, if you're used to it, but for me..."

"Think nothing of it," Elizabeth said with a smile. "I slept perfectly well, and the ship's carpenter is going to work even now, building a second cot in our room." Just then Elizabeth noticed that the nun held a rosary in her hand, her fingers moving over the beads, and recalled how she'd seemed startled to be addressed.

"Forgive me," Elizabeth said. "I haven't intruded, have I?"

"Oh, no," the Sister waved her concerns away, dropping the beads into a pocket in her voluminous black and white habit. "It's just something to have in my hands, most of the time," she said. "I also use it to keep track of numbers, when I'm working on a theorem, and I do occasionally pray the rosary, but I'll find someplace private to do that, I promise."

"That's fine," Elizabeth replied. "It's just... you seemed lost in thought just now."

"Oh, I probably was," Sister Constance said, turning her face back into the wind so that her hair was swept out of her eyes again. The Daedalus was sailing under its own power today, as there was very little wind actually blowing, and what there was was from the wrong direction. It was the most workout McKay's engines had gotten so far, and they were not disappointing.

"As much as I know the truth of what lies in the heavens," the Sister continued, "I cannot help to feel... closer, somehow, to the Creator, up here. Though you must not speak of this, I beg you, to my brother."

Elizabeth laughed, imagining the scathing retort McKay might make to such a statement. "He is as devoted to his Atheism as any evangelist is to their doctrine," she said, "though I'd never dare say so to his face. As I'm more of an agnostic myself, I'd say that, while we can never truly apprehend how any creator sees all of creation, we may imagine it better, perhaps, from above."

"Exactly!" Sister Constance smiled broadly, very much like her brother. "Elizabeth, I can't tell you how grateful I am, to have found such friends here. When Captain Sheppard and my brother told me that I would be coming to the Daedalus, I did worry that I wouldn't be welcomed. I am grateful beyond words that these worries were for nothing."

Elizabeth spotted Captain Caldwell approaching out of the corner of her eye, and so was not surprised to hear him reply to the Sister's words. "I'm very happy, ma'am, to hear that you've found your welcome here to be warm," he said, "but I'm sorry to say that your worries are not entirely unfounded."

"Let me guess," Elizabeth said, crossing her arms as she turned to face him. "Maybourne's been complaining?"

"And Sumner," Caldwell replied. "They're both concerned about how she'll affect moral on board, seeing as she won't have any assigned tasks, and will affect the ship's weight and consumables ratios. They're not entirely unfounded concerns, Dr Weir... though Kavanagh also came to complain that her presence would cause a... 'spiritual imbalance'."

"Oh dear," Elizabeth said, glancing back at Sister Constance, who only looked confused. "I'll have a talk with him, and as for Sister Constance not having any assigned tasks... Sister," she turned to face the nun, "how would you like to sign on as the expedition's mathematician?"

Sister Constance's eyes widened in surprise, but Caldwell's response was skeptical.

"I'm not sure what purpose a mathematician is going to have on this expedition, Dr Weir..." he began, but the sister cut in before Elizabeth could reply.

"Actually, I'm pretty good with codes as well," she said and Elizabeth unfolded her arms to shrug expansively.

"There you are," she concluded. Caldwell frowned, considering.

"I'll take it under consideration," he said, "along with the complications of actually changing our flight plan to drop her off in the Faroe Islands, as Maybourne suggested." He held up his hand now, forestalling the objections Elizabeth was already forming. "Save your arguments for the meeting I've called for nine o'clock, senior staff and ranking officers only, please."

"Surely Sister Constance ought to have a say in her fate," Elizabeth objected, but the nun spoke up before she could press her argument further.

"It's fine, Elizabeth," she said. "As much as I am privileged to be offered a position here, I wouldn't want to stay where I'm not wanted, and I'm sure it will be possible to contact my order from the Faroe Islands. It must be your decision as to whether I may have a place here."

Elizabeth weighed the Sister's words, gauging whether they were spoken in complete honesty or not, then turned to face Caldwell. "Very well," she said, "but I won't have her sent away because of prejudice or superstition, and I'll want it understood that the Faroe Islands will be an option for more than just Sister Constance, if they are to be an option at all."

"I'm sure you'll make it clear enough, Dr Weir," Caldwell said with a flash of a grin that reminded Elizabeth of how little difference there may be between a blockade runner -Caldwell's occupation in the early part of the war- and a pirate.

Elizabeth spent the remaining hour before the meeting chatting with other members of the science staff (and Kavanagh), building the case for letting Sister Constance stay, and by the time of the meeting she had a good one. She knew full well, however, that facts and data might mean nothing to those most adamantly opposed to her presence. The belief that women were a frailer, less mentally and emotionally resilient creature could still be found, even among the ranks of the most educated, and ran rampant among the military.

Elizabeth Weir would never have gotten to where she was in her life and career, were she not accustomed to being the only woman at the negotiating table. She knew that there was nearly always at least one person who thought that they would be able to intimidate her into compliance, and the first act of such meetings nearly always consisted of making it clear that they could not. Even as she entered the officers' mess, Elizabeth could see that this was going to be one of those meetings.

She'd hoped to avoid going head to head with Colonel Sumner, as such open disagreements would only weaken the whole command structure of the expedition, but as she took her place at the table she noticed that it was Lt Maybourne, his second in command, whose gaze held the most open hostility. So, she thought with an inward sigh, it was to be a battle of seconds.

This preserved -in appearance at least- the unity of the command structure, but pitting two such stubborn men against each other only meant that the fight would go on, no matter what was decided here. When Dr McKay came to sit beside her and moments later met Maybourne's glare with one of equal hostility, she knew she was right.

Caldwell came to sit just as the last bell of the watch was ringing, and Dr Carson Beckett came bustling in just as he did, looking fretful and rushed.

"Pardon," he said as he sat, "but we've had a handful of sore throats among the ship's crew and I'm wantin' to nip it in the bud, so I've been enforcing twice daily antiseptic gargles... and you've no idea what ridiculous lengths grown men will go to to avoid a bit of bad tasting medicine."

"Actually," Caldwell said with a roll of his eyes, "I have a very good idea, but I appreciate your perseverance, Doctor. Now, I believe we're ready to start?" Heads nodded all around the table.

"If I may?" Elizabeth stepped in immediately. "I'd like to begin by letting you all know that I've offered Sister Constance a position as expedition mathematician. It's an adaptable position that will allow her to work with other fields, whenever they need her expertise."

"And just what 'expertise' could this this woman have?" Maybourne started right in. "Enough to teach school children, no doubt, but on this expedition? Just because she knows her sums doesn't qualify her to do the kind of work the our scientists are doing."

This was calculated to raise McKay's ire, and it did so quite effectively, but Elizabeth wanted to keep the fireworks to a minimum, for now at least. She quieted the scientist with a hand on his arm and addressed Maybourne herself.

"Major," she said sharply. "I've had a lifetime of being patronized by men like you, and I imagine Sister Constance has as well. Seeing as I hired all the scientists for our expedition, I am perfectly aware of the level of mathematics required for the position of expedition mathematician, and I assure you that Sister Constance more than meets it."

"Oh you _assure_ us, do you..." Maybourne began in an even more patronizing tone, but Sumner silenced him with a gesture.

"Be that as it may," he said, "surely if the expedition needed a mathematician you would have hired one from the beginning."

"Of course we didn't plan to have Dr McKay's sister join the expedition," Elizabeth replied. "And she wasn't exactly available prior to now. Chance has placed her in our hands, however, and I believe that we can make a good use of her skills here."

"Forgive me if this is a nuisance," Dr Beckett put in now, "but I've been a bit busy -what with my work and all- and I haven't had a chance to hear what were the exact circumstances that brought her to us?"

Elizabeth turned to McKay now, prompting him to reply. "A group of men -we don't know under whose orders- took control of the convent where she lived so that she could be taken hostage and used to force me to spy on the expedition," McKay explained impatiently to the doctor. "Zelenka... found me out and offered his flying machine as a way to rescue my sister... with Sheppard flying the thing."

"Zelenka made that?" Carson exclaimed. "That's a marvel, that is!"

"Yes, yes, It's a true wonder of engineering," McKay grumbled. "The salient point, however, is that it brought my sister here, and now we have to find something to do with her. Trust me when I say that there'll be plenty of work for her to do as expedition mathematician -that is, unless some neanderthal in the Marines insists that she be put off because it offends his archaic sensibilities!"

"Trust you?" Maybourne shot back. "To be an unbiased judge of your own sister's qualifications for a position in a highly classified expedition? Do you take us all for fools?"

"Actually..." McKay was beginning, but Elizabeth cut him off before he could make the situation worse.

"I'm sure," she said forcefully, directing a silencing look at McKay, "that Dr Zelenka, Dr Grodin or myself could provide an unbiased assessment of Sister Constance's qualifications, however I'd like to point out that her qualifications are not the only factor we ought to consider in this case. She has already been used once as leverage to obtain Dr McKay's cooperation, and returning her to the clearly insufficient protection of her order may not be the wisest move on our part."

She had Sumner with this, Elizabeth could see, as the Colonel nodded seriously in response. "An important point, Dr Weir," he said, "and one which raises further questions about other vulnerable family members of our command staff." Sumner directed this latter comment at Caldwell, and therefor possibly missed Maybourne's deeply unhappy frown.

"Isn't that a little paranoid?" he asked, trying to sound reasonable, though his clenched fist betrayed his anger. "We don't even know who took McKay's sister. Maybe it was just a personal vendetta. Given McKay's history of ruining the careers of rival scientists, I find that a far more likely scenario."

"Hey, I only ruin the careers of scientists whose careers need ruining!" McKay pointed out stridently. Elizabeth had to hide her amused smile behind her hand.

"Be that as it may," Caldwell said, "protecting or at least monitoring the family members of senior staff and officers of the expedition would be simple enough, and not unwarranted, in my estimation. I'll send a communique to that end today. Returning to the point of the disposition of Sister Constance, however, unless there are any other objections, I'm inclined to go with Dr Weir's proposal." Caldwell glanced over at Sumner, who nodded in agreement.

Maybourne laid a tightly clenched fist on the table, only barely restraining himself, Elizabeth observed, from pounding it. "For the record, I would like to have it stated that I still maintain that you are overestimating the cost and inconvenience of transporting Sister Constance to the Faroe Islands, and underestimating the cost of keeping her on board."

"I will make a note," Caldwell said. "And the rest of you, you're dismissed to your other duties."

"Finally!" McKay said. "This means I'm free to go and do actually important work?" he said.

"I'd say so, yes," Elizabeth said with a smile, thinking that, for once, McKay spoke for all of them.

They all dispersed then and, returning to her cabin, Elizabeth found Sister Constance just outside on the deck, chatting with Lt Novak. The Sister was holding an armload of clothes, likely being loaned from the only other woman on the Daedalus -who was somewhat lankier than McKay's sister, but still closer to her size than Elizabeth.

"You're right," Sister Constance was saying as Elizabeth approached. "I know it's ridiculous, but I don't think I can bring myself to go out wearing coveralls, even if they did fit. I've worn nothing but a habit for decades now, and anything else just seems too strange."

"I can certainly appreciate that," Elizabeth entered into the conversation. "However, you may find them a far more practical garment in some of your duties as expedition mathematician."

"They said yes?" Sister Constance cried as she turned towards Elizabeth. "I got the job?"

"That you have," Elizabeth replied with a smile, "though I have to warn you that not everyone was happy about it. You're going to have to watch your step with a few people."

"Let me guess," Novak said with a roll of her eyes. "The Marines are upset."

"Men who've spent their whole careers at war will naturally find it more difficult," Elizabeth said, diplomatically, "to see a woman as..."

"Worthy of respect?" Novak said.

"I was going to say... capable," Eilizabeth finished. Sister Constance laughed.

"Don't think I haven't heard this all before," she said. "Why do you think I entered orders, really? I mean, okay, I do believe in God, and enough of the goals and aims convent life, that I could find meaning in all of what I did there, but it certainly wasn't my first choice of careers."

"And something like this," Elizabeth asked thoughtfully. "Being Expedition Mathematician, would that have been more like your first choice?"

Now Sister Constance's face grew thoughtful. "I can't say I ever imagined anything like this, not even for my brother," she said. "Initially I had set my sites on a university professorship... but if someone had offered me this position at the time I was deciding to enter orders... I might well have taken them up on it."

"God, I hope so," Novak said, and Sister Constance smiled. Elizabeth stayed thoughtful for a moment, however.

"I most certainly wouldn't want you to feel pressured," Elizabeth said carefully, "but in case you ever come to wonder about it, I want you to know that there could easily be a permanent position for you at the SPB -whenever you wanted it."

"Really?" Sister Constance's gaze was thoughtful again, her blue eyes meeting Elizabeth's directly. "That's... something to think about, Elizabeth. Thank you."

The three of them stood in silence for a little while longer, watching the Daedalus' shadow flit over the surface of the sea far below. After a moment a pod of dolphins came to course along side it, dancing in and out of the sunlight until they grew bored and sped away.

"How wonderful," Sister Constance said, as though to herself.

"Welcome to the SPB," Novak said. "Wonders one minute, horrors the next, and in between, work, work, work. I better run and do mine now." Sister Constance accepted the coveralls in the end, saying she'd give them a try, and Elizabeth could see she meant it.

On the one hand, Elizabeth knew she had no business tempting a woman of God away from her vocation. It wasn't right. If that vocation really was just a second choice for her, however... Elizabeth wanted to hope for what was right, no more and no less, but she knew in her heart she hoped that Sister Constance might come to recognize an earlier vocation and join them. She had a feeling that she and they and the whole world could be the better for it.

**

McKay had his second presentation ready the next evening, and while there was little doubt that pretty much everyone on the Daedalus was planning on attending, McKay kept dropping tantalizing and less than subtle hints about it all through dinner.

"It's a personal project I've been working on for most of the last year," he said more than once in Elizabeth's hearing. "And it just happens to have direct relevance for our current destination."

He wouldn't say anything more specific on the subject, however, and seemed to take great pleasure in everyone's mystification. Elizabeth saw no harm in it, regardless of the volumes of eye rolling that went on whenever McKay's back was turned. In spite of his bluster, Elizabeth would wager that McKay's new invention would really be something new and useful, and she made no secret of her interest. She was pleased to discover that Dr Beckett felt the same.

"Honestly, what with all the things he's invented, I suppose he's entitled to blow his own horn a bit," the doctor said as he escorted her to the main deck where McKay's demonstration was to take place. "And he's never disappointed, at least not so far as I'm concerned."

"Nor I," Elizabeth concurred. In the center of the main deck she now saw that McKay had a table set up, upon which sat an assortment of small items and a sort of lamp, with a copper reservoir below and a shaded glass lantern above. Instead of an ordinary wick within the glass, however, there hung a tiny net bag, and some odd knobs were embedded in the side of the reservoir.

Behind McKay hung, suspended from the lift vessel's superstructure, a sort of chandelier, with six glass enclosed 'nets' surrounding a single reservoir. If this was, indeed, some new advance in lighting, Elizabeth reflected, then it most certainly had a direct relevance to their expedition, and she said so to Dr Beckett.

"And not only for us," he said, "but for every doctor who's ever had to treat wounded men below decks. There's never enough light down there."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, but said nothing more as McKay was clearing his throat to bring the crowd on the deck to silence.

"As many of you know," he began, "I have been focusing much of my efforts on the many potential uses of refined mineral spirits. I'd like to begin my presentation this evening with a demonstration of why I find this substance worthy of my continued attention."

He now produced, with a flourish, a sliver pocket lighter, and used it to light a mall taper, which he selected from amongst the items on the table. He also set apart two small, stoppered glass jars, each appearing to contain a cotton ball.

"A simple demonstration of the potential energy contained in two fuels: normal mineral spirits," he indicated one of the jars, "and refined mineral spirits." He indicated the other, then unstoppered the first and lit the taper. "I've put an equal amount of fuel, about a quarter of a tablespoon, on each of these cotton balls, and now we'll see how much energy each one produces." McKay touched the lit taper to the first cotton ball, and it ignited quickly, burning with a steady yellow flame for a minute or two, before the fuel was consumed and then the cotton ball. Elizabeth waved her hand in front of her nose as a chance breeze blew the stench of burning cotton her way.

"Not an unreasonable amount of energy for such a small amount of fuel," McKay commented. "It's why we're already using it to replace whale oil, but I doubt many of you have any idea how much more powerful the more highly refined fuel can be..."

"Doesn't the energy cost of the refinement process eliminate the benefit of this so-called super fuel, Dr McKay?" one of the scientists called out from the crowd.

"Please save your questions for the end of the presentation, Dr Gaul," McKay snapped, "and to answer your question in brief, no. Now..." McKay cleared everything, including the lamp, away from the one corner of the table where the second jar sat, still stoppered.

"Refined mineral spirits are highly volatile," he said as he prepared to open the second jar, "so some of you may smell something when I open this. You should probably also stand back a little."

Some in the front ranks eyed each other doubtfully, but Elizabeth saw how McKay himself was standing back, arm holding the taper extended as far as he could make it, and moved back a step herself. The others eventually followed suit, and McKay reached out to touch the flame to the edge of the jar.

There was a bright flash, a 'whuff' of a small explosion and the tinkle of breaking glass, followed by a moment of silence, broken by an accented voice saying, "I told you that cheap lab glass wouldn't hold up."

"And _I_ said no flying shrapnel, and see...?" Rodney gestured with the now extinguished taper to where the glass jar appeared to have collapsed inwardly in the wake of the explosion, rather than being thrown out. "No flying shrapnel." Elizabeth felt her eyebrows rise, but couldn't find anything to say. Around her, the crowd reacted with a few surprised murmurs, but soon quieted.

"And I believe I've made my point -about the potential energy to be found in refined mineral spirits," McKay said when he had everyone's attention again. "But now most of you probably think that this substance must be dangerously uncontrollable." This got a nervous laugh, but McKay held up an admonishing finger as he turned to place the lamp in the center of the table.

"This device, the McKay Refined Spirits Mantle Lamp," he said when he turned back to face everyone, "will prove that the opposite is true."

Now he turned back to fiddle with the knobs on the side of the reservoir, one of which appeared to be a sort of pump. He applied himself to this, counting under his breath as he pumped, and the crowd quickly grew restless.

"And so simple and easy to use!" someone quipped. 

McKay finished counting and turned back to face the crowd with a glower. "I'd tell you to shade your eyes, but some of you clearly deserve to be temporarily blinded," he said and without another word he re-lit the taper and touched it to an opening at the base of the lantern glass. At first there was just a ring of blue fire at the lamp's base, but then McKay returned to pump at the reservoir a few more times and the fire leaped up to catch on the small net bag.

Elizabeth threw up her hand to shield her eyes reflexively, as the bit of net ignited with an unbelievably bright, white light. All around her she could hear people gasping and exclaiming in surprise.

"Holy crap, that's painful to the eyes, Doc," cried one of the young Marines -Ford, Elizabeth thought it might be. She waited to hear the gasp of an affronted nun somewhere in the crowd, and was relieved when she didn't.

"I did warn you," McKay answered smugly, finding a shade on the table and setting it over the glass, thus rendering the light considerably more bearable. "That's three _hundred_ candlepower," he said, gesturing toward his invention, "as compared to approximately twelve candlepower in your average oil lamp, and forty in your average gas lamp. And that's with just one mantle burning."

The scientist turned now to the larger, six armed chandelier behind him and began to prepare the main reservoir on this device. It seemed to require even more pumping and fiddling, but before too long McKay was lighting one after another of the attached lamps and the whole deck was blazing with light.

"Hoist away!" McKay called to an unseen crew member who'd evidently been told to await this cue, and the brilliantly glowing chandelier began to rise upwards. Suspended from the superstructure of the lift vessel high above, McKay's luminous invention continued to ascend, flooding the whole deck with enough light to read by, though it was a dark, moonless night.

Astonished, Elizabeth looked down at her own hands, amazed at how much she could see, and all around her others were doing much the same. "My word!" she heard Dr Beckett exclaim, and from another place in the crowd she heard Sister Constance cry out, "Glory be, Meredith, this is amazing!"

Basking in his acclaim as he was, Elizabeth still saw McKay wince at his sister's use of his real first name. Elizabeth knew it, of course -she'd learned everything she could about Dr Meredith Rodney McKay before she'd gone to convince him to join her expedition. Still, she could not help but smile to watch the scientist's expression go from pleased triumph to thunderously disapproving, and then back to philosophical but still smugly pleased in a matter of a half a minute or so. Whatever else one might say about the man, he was unarguably brilliant, and tonight he had demonstrated that once again.

When the chandelier reached a sufficient height, McKay spread his arms and bowed, receiving a smattering of polite applause. He remained to answer questions under the astonishing illumination of his invention, demonstrating some principles with the table lamp he'd begun with. Many continued lingering after all the questions had been answered, just for the novelty of basking in such brilliant artificial light. Eventually, however, McKay called for his chandelier to be lowered and he shut it off, plunging everything into relative darkness once again.

"Naturally, we have limited quantities of this specially refined fuel," he said, maneuvering the thing into a packing crate by the light of the single table lamp. "I recommend judicious use."

"Of course," Elizabeth answered, still blinking. They'd brought up all the small electrical lights on the Daedalus' deck, which had seemed more than sufficient previously, but now seemed like just the faintest glimmers compared to the searing brilliance of McKay's mantle lamp.

"I'm having to relieve half the watch for night blindness," she heard Caldwell's voice suddenly from beside her. "Beckett assures me that it's temporary..."

"I'm sure it is," Elizabeth said, "but it is something to take into account the next time we plan on using it -possibly even as something to use against an enemy."

"Where we're going," Caldwell concurred, "it's not out of the question."

"And are we still on schedule to arrive at the entrance tomorrow?" Elizabeth asked.

"That we are," the Captain replied. "I expect we'll see it on the horizon before mid morning."

"That's excellent news Captain," Elizabeth said, smiling. "Just think, by this time tomorrow, we could be there, _inside_ the hollow Earth." She shook her head. "I'm not sure how much sleep I'm going to get tonight."

"If, ah, if ye'd care to stop by my quarters before ye go to bed, Elizabeth," said Dr Beckett, coming up beside her in the dark. "I'd be glad to share a wee dram o'somethin' that'd relax ye a bit."

Elizabeth immediately saw the sense in this -he was the expedition doctor, after all- and so the two of them bid Captain Caldwell goodnight, and made their way back to the doctor's cabin. The 'somethin' turned out to be a very fine aged whiskey, and it did indeed serve to relax Elizabeth just enough.

Back in her cabin, her newly built bunk smelled of fresh cut lumber, which was a soothing smell, and made her think less about uncertain journeys into dark and dangerous places, and more about smooth, smokey liquor, blue eyes, dimples and Scottish accents. Lulled the soft sound of Sister Constance breathing in the other bunk, and these soothing thoughts, Elizabeth's sleep was untroubled by dreams, or by unpleasant ones, at any rate.  
******

 

**__**


	5. Chapter Four: In which the Hollow Earth is Entered, rather more precipitously than planned

**Chapter 4**

  
** " I would like to see that land  beyond the Pole. That area beyond the Pole is the center of the Great Unknown." **

  
_** -Rear Admiral Richard E. Byrd, 1947 ** (a real quote!) _

 

_ ~~~~ _

  
Radek Zelenka was glad, in a way, that turning back was no longer an option. He might have considered it, otherwise, when he saw how tiny the Daedalus' launch appeared, poised at the entrance of the unimaginably vast cavern that lay before and below them. It lay hidden, -remarkably for such an enormous thing- in the throat of a caldera that took up a disproportionate amount of the top and side of a cinder-cone island. 

Only on second glance did Zelenka see how the Daedalus could possibly fit into the entrance, but when the air launch, with Major Lorne at the helm, approached it's cusp, the true dimensions of the thing could be seen at last, and they were daunting. Radek admired men such as Lorne and Sheppard, for not being daunted, evidently, and plunging fearlessly in to the unknown. It took everything he had just to follow them, but he was proud of himself, at times, for having gotten as far as he had.

It lead him to moments such as now, watching Lorne emerge from that same cave, several hours after having gone in to scout ahead, and knowing, from the green flag that flew on his fore-stays, that the way ahead was clear and that he, and the Daedalus would indeed be following him. Radek felt a thrill of terror at the prospect, and admitted to it, as well as to the joy that suffused him at the knowledge that he was committed to this path, and powerless to turn back.

Lost in his thoughts, Radek didn't notice McKay coming to stand at the rail beside him for several moments. "So," he said, catching Radek unawares, "Looks like we have a go."

"Ah," Radek said, needing a moment to replay McKay's words in his head and translate them from English. "Indeed, it seems we do. It is, for me, a little... unsettling to realize that true adventure is only now beginning."

"Mm," McKay said, gaze distant and hands clasped behind his back. "Me, I've never been so excited in my entire life."

Radek gave McKay a sidelong glance only, rolling his eyes, and chanced to see Dr Weir approaching them.

"Looks like we're not getting out of this," she joked.

"Of course not," McKay replied. "I've done my research. Do you think I would have agreed to come all this way if there was more than the slightest chance that the Daedalus wouldn't be able to pass?"

"So this... entrance, it has been scouted before?" Radek asked.

"Of course," McKay replied. "The Daedalus was built for the purpose of this mission, and there's very little point in building a new airship to sail into the hollow Earth if it won't fit into the entrance."

"The Daedalus construction was already begun when we discovered the information about Atlantis and the hollow Earth, in Antarctica," Elizabeth answered him more informatively, "and it became dedicated to the expedition to find it once we'd confirmed the information about the entrance, a little over a year ago. I believe that it was Major Lorne and Lt. Stackhouse that made the journey then as well."

"How far down did he get?" Radek asked, encouraged to know so much preparatory work had been done.

"A little over ten miles, the last time," Elizabeth said. "I think he was going to try to get a bit farther this time, and he was expecting to be able to see quite a bit further ahead, since he's carrying one of McKay's new lanterns this time."

Radek had heard about that, and was keen to hear what had been revealed, as was everyone else, he was sure. Hence the great number of people gathered on the deck as the launch came up to the fantail and Lorne and Stackhouse tied up there. Zelenka followed Dr Weir and McKay, and found himself on the quarterdeck along side them, as the scouting party stepped back onto the Daedalus, trading salutes with Caldwell as they did.

"Permission to come aboard sir?" Lorne asked, and Caldwell granted it a beat later.

"It's all looking pretty clear sir," Lorne reported. "We think we got around twenty miles in this time, and Dr McKay's new lamp really lit the place up. I was able to look ahead with the spyglass maybe another mile or so."

"And the reflector?" McKay asked now, sounding like he was getting some important information, but really just fishing for compliments, Radek knew, as there was really very little to the reflector -a polished metal dish which sat behind the lantern, shielding the crew's eyes and directing the light forward. "That worked well for you?"

"Worked perfectly, Doc," Lorne answered, only a little patronising. "We didn't see any sign of an opening to the tunnel, or any side branches or caverns, but we didn't see any sign of it tapering off or ending either. The tunnel dimensions vary slightly, but stay the same on average, I'd say, for the whole distance we travelled." Standing beside him, the Marine who'd accompanied him nodded in concurrence.

"Alright then," Caldwell said, turning to address the assembled crew and personnel. "All hands, rig for narrow passage; stow that launch; McKay, finish rigging your light systems, and you geologists," Caldwell pointed to a complex array of cameras set up on the main deck, "make sure this apparatus is fast. I don't want it loose on deck it we hit any rough seas."

Instant organized chaos ensued, and Radek went to double check that his own equipment was well stowed. The geologists were determined to record as much of the possibly several hundred mile journey toward the Earth's center as possible, hence the camera array on the deck, and seeing to it that it wouldn't come loose on the deck wouldn't be easy. Radek found his own tasks work enough, and before very long he heard Caldwell's order, piped through the ship, to move ahead a quarter speed, and begin their descent.

Soon Radek found himself among a press of other scientists climbing up to the main deck once again, to watch the unbelievably enormous cavern entrance grow closer and closer. It was Caldwell at the helm, Radek was glad to see, guiding them down into the morass, though the closer they got the roomier their way seemed. Still, the steady sea breeze dropped off as they sailed past the entrance, and the thrum of the Daedalus' main engines could be heard, reverberating off the cavern walls.

Two of McKay's new mantel lamps -their light focused ahead with reflectors- were mounted on the Daedalus' prow, and showed the way forward. The passage -big enough for three Daedalus sized airships at least- sloped down at a gradual angle, but Radek could see that further ahead their descent would become steeper. Even as he noticed this, Radek heard Caldwell give the order to adjust the lift vessel pressure, keeping them carefully in the middle of the passage.

The whole crowd around him -Radek was standing next to Dr Beckett, Dr Parrish, and some of the other botanists, behind a couple of chemists and in front of some metiorologists- shifted uneasily, murmuring but soon falling silent again as Daedalus escaped the last reach of long angled, late afternoon sun, and shadow fell over them all. The reverberating chugging from the engine they'd always thought of as remarkably quiet before echoed all around them as the Daedalus slipped deeper inside. Panbůh! Radek thought, feeling a moment of dread clutch at his heart as the blue sky behind them slowly became encircled by the cavern walls.

 _We are really doing this,_ Radek thought. _**I** am actually doing this!_ He knew absolute elation for a moment, and then the thought came to his that this might be the last time he ever saw the sky, and his elation evaporated.

It seemed that many others were having the same thought, for most turned now to gaze up and stern-ward, holding the sight to keep in memory, perhaps for the rest of their lives. Radek did the same. Ahead of them, McKay's lanterns defined the scope of their knowable future -the vast descending passage proceeding with little variation- and behind, all the world they had ever known was dwindling from a wide dome, to a great, round window, to a disc Radek could cover with his hand.

He found himself doing so, daring himself and teasing his fear. Beside him, Carson Beckett surreptitiously crossed himself, then blushed when he saw that Radek had noticed. Radek shrugged, offering him an understanding smile. Radek had parted company with the Church some time ago, but he had respect for those who had not, just as he admired his eighty year old grandmother for her dedication in making the Twelve Stations of the Cross every single Easter, rain or shine.

"One wants to make some sort of... observance," offered Dr Parrish, who was standing nearby. "We're leaving behind the source of all life known to science. What we find beyond its reach must therefor, be either no life at all, life that manages, in an as yet unknown way, to get the sun's energy all the way down in those inner realms, or life that springs from another source of energy entirely. The prospect rather boggles the mind."

"We're also leaving behind the best protection mankind has against the Eldritch," Dr Kaganagh pointed out. "I'd better go double check and make sure all the wards are in place."

Radek watched him push his way through the crowd, now visible only because of the Daedalus' on-deck electric lights. They were making good speed along the passage, and the entrance above and behind them was now little more than a small, bluish disc of a sun in the dark, starless heavens. Radek gazed at it until it became a pinprick, and then vanished, swallowed up in the darkness that now enclosed them.

Then it was interrupted by a brilliant flash and the smell of burning chemicals. The geologists were beginning a series of flash pictures of the passage walls, and would carry on until they ran out of flash powder, or photographic plates. The crowd had been dwindling since the entrance had disappeared in the distance, and Radek was now curious to see what lay ahead, so he strolled past the geologists and their cameras and made his way to the forecastle.

Dr Beckett chose to accompany him, and mounted the stairs to the pigeon cote behind him to stand in the close space there. McKay's two great lanterns were mounted on the prow below them and as powerful as they were, they only lit a part of the vast space they travelled though.

"It is fortunate, I suppose," Radek commented, "that I do not suffer from claustrophobia, but even if I did, I do not think I would feel it in this place."

"Aye, one thinks of caves as close places," the doctor said, "but then, this isn't exactly a cave we're going to."

"Ha, not exactly, no," Radek said. "What it will be, none of us even knows -a great hollow, like the inside of an eggshell, a warren of tunnels like... mraveniště... the home for ants." He spread his hand expressively. "Sometimes I think we must be mad to continue, knowing so little as we do..."

"Aye, but we'd never find out otherwise," Beckett countered. "Me mum always said my curiosity would either make me famous, or be my undoing... and she's never been wrong yet."

"I believe my own mother said something similar," Radek observed with a fatalistic grin. " _Tak,_ we are well on the way of proving them both right, one way or another."

Beckett only nodded, and the two men stood in silence for a few moments longer, Radek thinking of his old mother, living out her simple life in the mountain village he'd grown up in. She'd never have been able to imagine the life her son had come to lead, and yet understood enough, that if he were ever able to tell her what he had accomplished and where he had travelled, he felt sure she would not feel the least surprise.

It was not his mother -for whom it was too late- but his nephew, that Radek's thoughts turned to now, as it came to him that today's events ought to be set to paper while his memories were still fresh. He left the doctor at the pigeon cote then, and descended to his cabin to record his impressions in his native tongue, bending the old words from the language of his youth to the new and unimaginable circumstances of his present, unimaginable life.

**

It wasn't as if they hadn't dined by electric light before, but that first dinner of their descent seemed different anyhow. Perhaps it was the odd ambiance caused by the echoing sound of their engines, and perhaps the darkness outside really was deeper, without even a new moon or a single star to light heavens. The mood over the meal was excited, but subdued, though it lightened during the evening game of whist, as Sister Constance joined as a novice, and had to be taught how to play.

Radek himself coaxed Captain Sheppard into another highly enjoyable and challenging game of chess, though the pilot seemed a bit distracted by McKay's usual kibitzing and Radek defeated him relatively quickly. They'd all retired afterwards, rather that lingering to socialize as they often did. It wasn't that they were tired, Radek reflected as he'd made his own preparations for bed that night, but that their present situation seemed to invoke a desire for solitude and self reflection in most of them. It certainly did for him.

That was, perhaps, why it took longer than usual for Radek to fall asleep that night, and why he slept even more lightly than he usually did. When the sound of an abrupt knock at the door woke him, he initially assumed it to be on his door, but when the knock came again, urgent and hurried, Radek realized that it was on the door of the cabin next door.

"Dr McKay!" someone shouted, along with their knocking. It was a youngish voice, Radek thought, perhaps the midshipman who generally presided over the night watch.

"Dr McKay, you're wanted on the main deck!" A groaning, less than intelligible mumble issued from the cabin next door, though Radek thought he heard a questioning tone to it.

"Captain needs to see you, Doctor," the answer came. "He needs to see you now!"

None of this was making Radek any more likely to fall sleep again, though he sighed in dismay when he switched on the small electric lamp in his room and squinted at his watch -which showed the time to be a little after three thirty. Dr McKay being summoned by the Daedalus' captain at three in the morning could not possibly portend anything good, and if McKay's help was needed, Radek's would likely be too. Rubbing his eyes before slipping his glasses on, Radek found his trousers and suspenders, and decided that these, pulled on over his night shirt, would be sufficient to the moment.

McKay was just leaving his cabin, dressed almost identically, as Radek emerged. "Why are you up?" he grumped sleepily at Radek.

"Was wakened by knocking at your door, and am not likely to fall back to sleep now," Radek said. "And if one genius brain is needed, I am thinking two sleepy genius brains may do as well."

McKay gave him a narrow eyed look, as if he suspected Radek of sucking up, then shrugged and turned to follow the midshipman, whose voice Radek had correctly identified. It was as he was descending to the main deck that Radek realized what felt strange to him just now -there was no wind. Sailing under power as she had been since she entered the cavern, the Daedalus generated a pleasant, steady breeze to those standing on her decks, but at the moment there seemed to be none. 

Surely, Radek thought to himself, he'd have noticed if the engines had stopped, and only a moment's pause to listen brought him the steady, echoing chug of the Daedalus' engines. He cast his eyes over to the cavern walls next, but they were moving past at a good clip, perhaps even a little faster than before... and of course Radek figured it out then.

McKay did too. "How long have we had a tail wind?" he asked Captain Caldwell as soon a he came into sight on the deck.

"Mr Jenkins alerted me around half an hour ago," Caldwell replied. "I deemed the situation manageable until a few minutes ago, when it became apparent that the wind speed is accelerating, along with the Daedalus."

"I thought something felt... off," said a new voice, and everyone looked to see Sheppard stepping onto the deck, in a hastily pulled on uniform and his hair looking even more disordered than usual. It reminded Radek that his own unruly locks were probably a fright, and he combed his fingers -probably futilely- through them.

"McKay, I need to know where this wind is coming from, and if we can expect it to accelerate further," Caldwell said. McKay frowned unhappily and crossed his arms as he turned to face the captain.

"I have no idea why you think I'm going to have the answer to these questions, but if there's going to be any chance of that I need coffee," he snapped, "and copies of both of Major Lorne's reports of his scouting trips. Zelenka, Sheppard, you can help too, and Caldwell, you can send the coffee and the reports to the chart room -it's got the best lighting."

The coffee, and several copies of Lorne's report were delivered by Midshipman Jenkins a moment later, and soon the clink of coffee service and turning pages were the only sounds to be heard. Radek had Lorne's two reports side by side, and was comparing pages, when a thought occurred to him. Hastily, he turned back to the first pages of both reports when Sheppard spoke.

"Oh crap," he said, causing everyone else to look his way. "Lorne made both his trips around the same time of day, didn't he?" Sheppard asked. This was just the information Radek had been about to check.

"At midday," Radek confirmed, "when..."

"When the temperature in the upper part of the passage is stable," McKay concluded. "If he'd gone further down he might have even met up with a head wind."

"Because the air below was somehow being heated by the sun," Radek elaborated, "and was expanding. Now it is night and the air below is cooling and shrinking, causing..."

"A downdraft -which from our standpoint, is going to be a tail wind," McKay continued, "probably a hell of a tailwind and it's probably only going to get stronger the closer we get to... wherever we're going."

"The engine speed, McKay," it dawned on Radek then, who knew nothing about sailing on the sea but, like any Praguer, knew a thing or two about river navigation. "We need..."

"Caldwell," McKay cut him off, "you need to increase speed, and get Novak up and standing by, because depending on how long we have to keep going in this wind, we're going to need everything the engines have to give us."

"Understood," the captain replied. "What about your lights, McKay?" he inquired further. "How many more hours can they operate before we need to refuel them?"

Of course, Radek realized. Refilling the mantle lamps' reservoirs with the highly volatile refined mineral spirits they required while the Daedalus was sailing as smoothly as she had been wouldn't have been a problem, but if they were being buffeted by a tailwind...

"The reservoirs can't be refilled without having to shut them off," McKay answered. "You'd probably better send a crew to do it now, one at a time, in case it's too dangerous to do it later."

"And then how long will they last?" Caldwell asked.

"Eighteen hours, more or less," McKay said. "Instruct the refill crews to turn the gas down, just a little, when they relight them. They won't be quite as bright, but they'll last longer."

"It's a good idea, Doctor," said Caldwell. "I'll have a crew on it immediately, and I'll send for Novak. Dr McKay, I'd be obliged if you'd check the engines over yourself while we're waiting for Novak to arrive."

McKay did oblige, and Radek followed along -seeing as no one stopped him. Caldwell's orders to increase speed were relayed down to the engine room ahead of them, and Radek could hear the change in pitch, as well as feeling the inertial shift as the Daedalus began to push itself ahead of the surrounding air once again. The technician on night watch in the engine room simply stepped back and kept out of the way when he saw McKay and Zelenka appear. By now all the technicians and engineers knew that was the best way to avoid being yelled at when McKay showed up, and sometimes not even that was enough.

Underslept, and anxious, McKay was bound to yell at someone, and Radek had placed himself in harm's way, but he'd become accustomed to the man's temper by now, and wasn't afraid to show his own, when the situation called for it. Regardless, they both gave the Daedalus' engines a thorough going over even as they called each other imbecile and blockhead, finishing up just as Novak appeared.

She stood at the top of the stairs for a moment, hiccuping, then came down, listened to the engines for a moment and then told them, stammering slightly though her hiccups, four things they'd both overlooked or done wrong. She was apologetic about it, as well as nervous, and it completely undercut McKay's propensity to yell. Zelenka took him to get more coffee.

Coffee and cold, early breakfast was being served in the officers' mess (all the kitchen fires had been put out, but hot water for coffee was being tapped from the engines), and Weir was there, as well as Lorne, Sumner, Maybourne and Sheppard.

"How fast are we going now?" McKay asked, pouring himself a coffee.

"Over fifty five knots," Lorne answered. "Up three knots from an hour ago." His tone seemed overly glum to Zelenka, as did his posture, shoulders slumped as he sat hunched over in a chair by the corner.

"Evan," Sheppard said, moving to stand by his side. "You couldn't have known this was coming. You went farther than you were ordered to as it is, and if you had gotten deep enough to encounter a wind, the chances are you wouldn't have made it back at all."

"I should have at least thought about the timing," Lorne countered, frustrated. "I made both scouting trips; you'd think it would occur to me that we'd learn more if I made them at different times of the day."

"It might have occurred to any of the command or science staff too," Sheppard pointed out.

"It might have occurred to me as well," Dr Weir added. "Major, I'm afraid that this comes under the heading of things we probably couldn't have known, of which, I have no doubt, there will be a great many. I believe we can manage these things, but not if we fall to self-recriminations."

"Understood ma'am," Lorne said, pulling himself up a bit, and looking up to meet Sheppard's gaze. The pilot's look was intense, and layered with meanings not even Radek -who knew something of how it was between them- could quite fathom.

They'd been strongly encouraged to stay off the decks (the geologists and their photographic gear had been cleared away hours ago), and Radek appreciated the reason why, but found himself drawn to observe the crewmen gauging the Daedalus's speed. They did this, most ingeniously, Radek thought, by firing a sort of crossbow with a bolt tipped by a cloth bag filled with lime. They aimed it at the wall of the passage, well ahead of the Daedalus, and the striking bolt would leave a clearly visible white mark where it struck. A pair of crewmen stationed on the Daedalus deck exactly one hundred feet apart, would call out when they saw the mark go past and a third would note the elapsed time between the two.

Radek watched this very thing play out a couple of times, then followed the lad who he saw take a slip of paper from the time keeper and run it up to Lt Campbell, at the helm.

"It's fifty eight knots now, Dr Zelenka," he said, looking up from the note he'd just been handed. "And what's more, it looks like we may have some navigation challenges coming up."

Radek looked forward in alarm, seeing some possible curvature in the passage ahead, but the lights didn't extend far enough to see anything more. "On what do you base this prediction?" he asked worriedly, because he knew the man would have a good reason.

"Naturally, the tunnel was never perfectly straight to start with," Campbell answered, "but the curves have been getting more pronounced recently. It's been increasing pretty steadily over the last eight hours."

"And we also continue to increase in speed," Radek said, feeling growing alarm.

"Yeah," the lieutenant said, terse. "Doc, I know we're trying to extend time with the lamps, but I'm going to need them turned up if we expect to extend _our_ time. And tell the Captain that I'm recommending that we batten down for heavy weather, if you wouldn't mind."

"Of course," Radek replied, glancing up at man at the helm. Lt Campbell's brow was untroubled, but his grip on the wheel was white-knuckle tight.

Radek found Caldwell, along with Sumner coming up from the engine room and immediately relayed what he'd heard from Campbell. The Captain thanked him, then stopped a passing crewman and had him pass orders for Gale Stations and that all civilians remain in their quarters.

"And that includes you, Doctor," Caldwell concluded firmly.

"If I may," Radek suggested hurriedly, "a number of the expedition senior staff are in the officers' mess, if that is acceptable?"

"Fine, fine," replied Caldwell more hurriedly still. "Just stay out of the way and off the decks!"

Radek promised earnestly to comply and then scurried back up to the officers mess to let the others know.

McKay fretted when Radek told him that Caldwell had ordered the lamps turned up again, but he didn't call anyone an idiot, which meant he saw the reason for it.

"What are we supposed to do now, just wait?" Sheppard asked, pacing like a caged beast.

"Well, I've got a duty station," Lorne said, heading toward the door, "standing by at the helm. Captain Sheppard, if things go seriously wrong, we might need you there, but unless they do, you're better off staying here."

Sheppard looked a if he would have liked to argue the point, but, like McKay, he was forced to see the sense in doing as he'd been instructed. Truth be told, Radek didn't much care for being cooped up inside and helpless while they hurdled along either, but he saw the facts just as clearly. For the moment, Novak was better left to tend the engines she knew better than anyone else, without outside interference, and Lorne and Campbell were better left to mind the helm. The expedition members, brilliant though they might be, really were just passengers at this point, and in a crisis, passengers needed to stay out of the way.

"Where's my sister?" McKay asked abruptly. "Does she know...?"

"She went with Dr Beckett down to the sick bay," Dr Weir answered. "She said she thought she might be the most useful there." McKay nodded into the tense silence, which lingered until Dr Weir finally suggested a game of cards.

This was met, eventually with polite refusals, but then Sheppard suggested a simpler game involving the naming of prime numbers, and this proved marginally amusing for Radek, McKay and Sheppard, though it left Dr Weir and Colonel Sumner somewhat lost. All at once the whole ship lurched slightly, causing McKay and Sheppard, both of whom were standing, to stumble and nearly fall. Sheppard stepped over to a porthole upon recovery, and peered out.

"Damn, we're going even faster," he said, and Radek waited for McKay to say something scathing about the obviousness of Sheppard's remark, but he only frowned unhappily and stared at the door. Radek could all but hear his thoughts, for they were the same as his own -that there _must_ be something they could do.

 

The lurching began to occur more frequently after that, and Radek's concentration on the prime number game, which Sheppard had started again, began to lapse. All he could think about were Lt Campbell's words about how the passage ahead of them had been growing less and less straight, and about how they were flying, little more than blind, at an increasing rate of speed down an increasingly twisty, subterranean passage. The Lieutenant was a fine helmsman, Radek was sure, but the situation was impossible, and sooner or later...

There was another lurch, this one followed by a shock and the awful sounds of wood and other fixtures grinding against basalt walls.

"Oh no!" cried McKay standing as though to head out the door.

"Stand down, Doctor," barked Sumner. Radek could see Sheppard wince at his tone. McKay opened his mouth as if to object, but then seemed to find his own position indefensible and subsided, shoulders hunched miserably as he sat once again.

They could hear shouts and orders out on the deck now, including commands to clear wreckage. That was good, Radek told himself. The Daedalus' crew were on the job. They knew what they were doing. More shouts followed, organized calls and responses and not panicked alarm... and then a new sensation shuddered though the Daedalus.

It came with a new and alarming inertial shift, as they all felt the Daedalus' slow, then tilt, buffeted by the wind it was no longer outrunning. Something had gone amiss with the engines! Listening for their familiar thrum, Radek heard them, but they were pitched lower, and seemed to be straining.

McKay was already standing again, but rather than heading for the door, he went to the porthole, pushing Sheppard aside without a thought. "Oh, hell no," he swore, pushing himself away after only a moment. "There's loose lines all over the place, and one of them is almost certainly caught in the screw. We are so dead..."

"What do you mean?" Dr Weir asked standing even as the Daedalus rocked and lurched. "What's happened?"

"Something's definitely interfered with our forward speed," Sheppard answered. "McKay's probably right and if he is, the Daedalus is being carried along in the wind like a leaf in a flood, with no helm control at all."

Dr Weir's eyes widened in alarm just as the Daedalus struck the wall of the passage again, with a terrible crashing dragging sound, and she was nearly shaken off her feet. Sheppard caught her and sat them both down.

"Dammit!" McKay swore again. "Someone's got to unfoul that screw and the morons on deck probably don't even know what's gone wrong. I've got to go..."

"Dr McKay, we're to stay off the decks!" Sumner ordered. "You'll only get in the way."

"Not as much in the way as the next wall we're going to crash into if we don't get helm control back!" McKay snapped back, heading toward the door.

"Sir, if they don't know what's going on..." Sheppard said to the Colonel, moving to follow McKay.

"Captain Sheppard, if you have any sense of discipline whatsoever..." Sumner began, but it was Weir who interrupted him.

"I'd say that the current circumstances qualify as 'gone seriously wrong', Colonel," she said, "and in such circumstances, I believe Mr Sheppard was requested to stand by at the helm, was he not?"

"Dr Weir, what in God's name is he going to do there?" Sumner answered her.

"I have no idea," she said, "but there's nothing he can do here, and I don't think we can afford to have anyone idle handed at the moment. Dr Zelenka, I'd like you to head to the engine room and let them know what's happened. Stay out of the way, if that's what's needed, but if they need you're help..."

"I will be there," Radek answered, relieved beyond sense that he would have some task. Even rushing into the danger of the open deck and the engine room was preferable to sitting here in idle, and illusory safety.

"Dr Weir," Sumner protested again, but the expedition leader stood strong and Radek's heart was filled with admiration to see it.

"Colonel, you might consider finding whoever is in charge of clearing the deck," she continued, "and ask them if they could use any of your Marines." It seemed a sensible enough idea to Radek, but he did not linger to see Sumner's response. McKay had already stepped out onto the corridor and now Radek followed him as far as the hatch that lead belowdecks.

He took care to make sure he had a firm grip on something well fastened as he made his way down, the Daedalus pitching and heaving around him. He focused all his attention on the sounds he heard from the engines, more and more clearly as he approached their domain. Radek Zelenka's sense for such things was nearly instinctual, and the sounds he heard from such machines fell upon his ear like a sort of language he knew better than nearly anyone else in the world. He knew well what the Daedalus' engines were saying by the time he reached the engine room, and once there, he was happy to find Novak more than willing to let him tell her.

**

Rodney nearly went overboard, no more than two steps out the door, as a sudden gust spun the Daedalus a quarter turn to starboard. He managed to grab hold of a solid bit of railing, all while swearing at himself for his carelessness. It caught the attention of Sheppard, who'd come out just before him and of Lt Campbell stand resolutely at the helm, with Lorne keeping station hear by.

"Careful Doc!" Lorne shouted, but Rodney ignored the superfluous advice, distracted by the scene of carnage before him. It was difficult to sort out what was what, amongst the splintered wood and tangled ropes and cables everywhere. He suspected, as he reconnoitered the stairs that lead to the quarterdeck, that it was one of the Daedalus' beautiful wing struts that lay in ruins on the deck. They'd been retracted, of course, but the scrape along the passage wall would have done considerable damage, nonetheless.

"Hey! What are you doin' out here!" called a nearby crewman, much to McKay's chagrin. "Don't you know civilians are supposed to be stayin' off the decks?"

Rodney had to bite back his first impulse to let the man know what a complete idiot he was in favor of presenting him with the considerably more important facts. "Something's fouled the screw, and we're dead in the water... or rather, the air!"

As he waited for the crewman's painfully slow mental processes to take this in, Rodney noticed that he was holding the very tool needed to remedy the situation. "And I'll take that, thank you," he said, grabbing the axe out of his grasp.

"Hey, I need that!" the man called as Rodney headed toward the stern.

"Not as much as I do!" Rodney shouted, not even bothering to look back, save to cringe briefly at the vision of his elegant wing strut, scraped, by the cavern wall, off the Daedalus' side like so many barnacles, but at least it looked like it might be repairable -at some later time.

If there was to be any later time for them, however, Rodney would need to find the rope that had fouled their main screw and free it, and to do that he needed to get up to the quarterdeck, which had never seemed so far away before. Sliding the axe into his belt and seizing the rail with a near death-grip, Rodney began mount the stairs slowly, as he made sure to keep at least one hand on the rail at all times. This caution was justified numerous times as the ship lurched and tilted, threatening to send Rodney tumbling down the stairs, or over the side.

By the time he reached the top Rodney's hands were aching and his elbow and shoulders felt like they'd been half pulled out of their joints. He paused to look back down to the half deck, where Chuck stood at the wheel -now secured with a rope around his waist tied to the helm itself. Sheppard could be seen on the starboard stairs below, using a knife to clear a tangle of ropes off the stairs, while Lorne worked to the same end a little ways further down.

"Wait, McKay!" Sheppard called, coming up to the base of the stairs a length of rope in his hand. "Secure yourself up there! We don't need anyone else going over."

Anyone else? Rodney caught the rope Sheppard tossed with wide eyes, then then tied it around his waist. It seemed as though Sheppard meant to follow him up to the quarter deck too, but then a shout came from below.

"Cap'n Sheppard!" came Major Lorne's voice. "Need you down here!"

Sheppard hesitated for only a moment, then said, "Stay sharp, McKay!" and turned to go.

"You too, Sheppard!" Rodney shouted, turning to his task.

His heart nearly failed him when he looked up again and saw that several sections of the quarterdeck rail were missing, and others looked to be damaged and unreliable. He saw the out of place rope as well, however -one of the stays that should have connected the lift vessel and the ship, lying at a wrong angle and pulled too taught against the stern. The sight brought the urgency of the situation freshly to Rodney's mind, and he found the self-possession to pull himself up on to the quarter deck.

Standing seemed unnecessarily foolhardy, Rodney quickly determined, and deemed keeping one's center of gravity low much more sensible as he crawled across the deck, pausing at the air-launch tie-down in the center of the deck. Tying the strongest knot he knew to secure himself, Rodney stood and drew the axe from his belt. Striding wide legged, he made his careful way to the stern rail and found it firm enough to brace against, then cast his eyes over the length of the rope where it lay pulled taught against the stern. He chose his spot, hoisted the axe, then swung.

Rodney McKay had chopped enough wood in his youth that the muscles of his arms and shoulders would never forget how to swing an axe. He even hit his mark the first time, but the cable was a secondary stay, and thicker than a man's arm. Rodney recovered the axe and swung again.

This time the Daedalus lurched to starboard just as Rodney began his swing and he nearly overbalanced and dropped the axe. He gave a breathless little shriek that he hoped no one heard, but managed to keep his grip on the axe when he overshot his mark. Frustrated as well as terrified, Rodney raised the axe high once again and brought it down with all his might, and this time when it struck he felt it bite deep into the rope.

Rodney had a split second to feel profound satisfaction as the rope parted under his final blow, and then several things all happened much too quickly to really follow. Ironically, time seemed to slow down for Rodney as he watched the lower end of the parting rope coil around the axe as it broke free, jerking the axe, then his arm, and them him, downward, and over the rail with a shocking force and rapidity. Rodney knew he _wanted_ to let go of the axe, but he couldn't seem to make his hand let go fast enough, and then he did but it was too late and he was falling into the rushing dark.

Rodney realized he'd screamed when the sharp jerk of the rope around his waist cut it off. It left him gasping, panting in terror as he flailed on the end of his rope, trying uselessly to get some purchase on the Daedalus' undercut stern. Now the Daedalus lurched again and swung him, dashing any hopes of that and the only thing Rodney could do was draw all the breath he could muster and shout for help.

"McKay!" the reply came at last, after he'd shouted far too many times.

"Here!" Rodney called back desperately. "I'm down here!" He thought he could maybe hear more voices from above, and felt a flicker of hope that he might escape death after all.

"Hang on, McKay!" That seemed like Sheppard's voice, and Rodney craned his neck up to see the familiar mop of unruly black hair framing the face above him.

"Oh, thank you for that highly timely advice, Captain," Rodney snapped back, relieved to know he was there all the same.

"That's me," Sheppard quipped. "Mr Good Advice. Okay, stand by to come aboard, McKay."

A cry of 'Heave!' was now heard from above and moments later Rodney felt himself being raised up at a steady pace -much to his great relief. It was just as he was nearly home free that the stern rail gave way and Rodney felt himself drop a couple of feet at the same time as he heard Sheppard swear angrily. By the time Rodney had managed to get his heart back out of his throat they had him nearly back up to the deck again.

Half a dozen hands stretched out to help him back on to the deck, though when Rodney finally collapsed there and got enough of his breath back to see whose hands they were, he realized that Sheppard's was not one of them. Rodney soon spied him sitting off to the side, rubbing his ribs as though they pained him, and examining something small in his other hand. His expression was unhappy, but it vanished the moment he saw Rodney.

"Glad you took my advice?" he smirked, tucking whatever the small thing was into his vest pocket and pointing at the rope still attaching Rodney to the Daedalus.

"Yes, yes," Rodney said dismissively. Sheppard's advice had indeed saved his life, but had no desire to feed the man's ego. "Mr Good Advice, as you said. What happened to you, then?"

"Railing hit me when it broke," Sheppard said, equally dismissive. "Just a few bruises... and a busted watch."

"Mmm..." Rodney said, considering. "Well, a watch is an important scientific measuring tool, which no officer on this expedition should be without. I'll requisition another one for you from Equipment and Supplies; I'm fairly sure I had them bring several spares."

"Gee, thanks," Sheppard replied, though Rodney thought he saw a fleeting look of sorrow on the man's face. It began to occur to him that people often place sentimental value in odd things, like watches, when the Daedalus took another lurch and everyone staggered and grabbed at something, or someone.

"Are we finished up here?" Sheppard asked.

"One last thing," Rodney said, managing to get his badly rattled brain back into working order. "Need to check and see that the screw is really unfouled."

"Martinson!" Sheppard called out and one of the hands who'd helped haul Rodney back onto the Daedalus threw himself flat on the deck to look down over the edge of the quarterdeck to see the rudder and main drive screw. To think, Rodney recalled, General Landry had wanted to scratch the rudder and stern lights as excessive, but they'd be even more in the dark now if he hadn't insisted.

"Something's still wrapped around the shaft," Airman Martinson reported, "but it looks to be turning... and it might be that that rope's fixin' to unwind itself, Sir!"

Rodney slumped with relief at the airman's words, so much so that he let Sheppard and the airmen manhandle him across the quarterdeck and down to the half deck with out a word of complaint. Sheppard sat him down on a bench near the helm -tying the end of his tether to the bench just in case- and someone handed him a mug of something warm which turned out not to be coffee, but grog, and a fairly strong one at that.

Sheppard thumped him on the back when he choked and sputtered on the first gulp, but Rodney wasn't at all displeased to have the liquor laced drink, once he knew what it was. He took his next sip more cautiously and appreciated the rum induced calm that followed shortly after.

"You did good out there, McKay," Sheppard said. "Campbell say he's already getting some response from the helm."

"Oh, good," Rodney said, taking another gulp of grog. Maybe there was a chance, after all, that they wouldn't end up dashed against a wall or... A loud cry from the forward lookout interrupted his thoughts.

"Did he say, 'tunnel ending'?" Rodney asked.

"Yes sir," Campbell answered, sounding tense.

"Ending how?" Rodney asked, feeling somewhat more than tense.

"Your guess is as good as..." Campbell began, answering Rodney's obviously rhetorical question, when the lookout called out again, a word even Rodney understood.

"Water!" came the cry. "Dead ahead... lake or ocean... can't see any shoreline!"

Suddenly, Caldwell was there, taking over the helm, calling orders down to the engine room and, in spite of the chaos all around, the Daedalus and her crew responded. Although the crew responded with alacrity, however, the Daedalus herself reacted sluggishly, her speed barely faster than the prevailing air currents. She responded too slowly to Caldwell's hand on her attitude rudder and Rodney could see the underground sea which the lookout had announced, ahead and below, and approaching much too quickly.

"Jettison ballast, compartments two and six!" Caldwell ordered and men and officers leaped to obey. "Engine room!" he called down the speaking tube now. "The reserve I told you to hold back? I want it now, everything you've got!"

It was with pride and pleasure that Rodney felt the Daedalus surge ahead, fighting the currents at last, instead of being tossed about by them. The ballast dump had elevated the Daedalus to where her lift vessel nearly scraped the tunnel ceiling, and Rodney could see it whizzing by at a terrifying speed, illuminated by his mantle lamp on the bow. Then, suddenly, too fleetingly to see well, Rodney thought he spotted some sort of technological apparatus... some construction or other, of gleaming metal struts and mirrors attached to the tunnel walls all around them... and then the Daedalus made one last abrupt lurch to port, accompanied by an alarming crashing, grinding sound, and then there was no tunnel ceiling above them, and the sea ahead of them was no longer quite so far below.

"Crews, stand ready at the bilge pumps!" Caldwell shouted and Rodney realized only then that the captain meant to take them down and land them in the water. It made sense, Rodney considered, unless the hull had been too badly compromised by one of their encounters with the tunnel wall. The glance he shared with Sheppard told him that he had similar concerns.

Caldwell turned back to the speaking tube now. "Re-gear for water propulsion," he ordered the engine room, and Rodney heard the engines change pitch a moment later.

"All hands, all passengers, brace for water landing!" Rodney heard Lorne's voice from down on the deck. Sheppard came to sit down on the bench beside him.

"Hang on!" he said, entirely unnecessarily, as Rodney was already hanging on for dear life. Then they hit the water, hard, and as tight as Rodney had clung to the bench, the sudden loss of velocity threw him forward, onto the deck, nearly at Caldwell's feet.

There was a great splash, as the Daedalus cut a deep wake into the underground sea, and she rocked, dangerously, for a moment, until she got her rudder down. The ship settled into the water with a great deal of creaking and groaning of timbers but without (Rodney listened carefully for this) the crack of a beam or bulkhead giving way. The creaking subsided after a moment or two, as did the splashing, and the Daedalus' speed slowed more gradually, until she was running under engine power alone, and Caldwell steered her toward what looked to be a sort of cove, not far from where they had landed.

But how, Rodney now had the presence of mind to ask himself as he stood and dusted himself off, could he, or Caldwell, or anyone else for that matter _see_ that there was a cove up ahead, or even the very surface of this sea? There was light here, from some source other than the Daedalus, and Rodney cast about on every side to try and spot it.

"Holy Mother of God," Lt. Campbell said, gazing up as though into the very visage of God. "There's a sky full of stars..."

"That can't be," Rodney said reflexively, even as he looked up to see the very thing Campbell did. There were indeed a scattering of bright lights high above them, stretching off into the distance, and Rodney blinked hard, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

"That's no sky," said Sheppard after a moment and Rodney's eyes, gradually adjusting to the light, saw what he saw.

"And those are no stars," he added. For one thing, all these 'stars' glowed faintly greenish, and for another, Rodney could just barely make out how they lay against some irregularly contoured surface.

"The deck lights," came a voice from below, on the main deck, and Rodney looked down to see that Dr Weir, as well as a number of other people had come out now, and stood gazing up as well. "Can you turn them off for a moment, Dr McKay?" she asked.

"Oh... of course," Rodney replied, stepping into the chart room where he'd installed the main electric light control box.

"Lorne," Caldwell commanded. "Send a crew to douse the bow mantle lanterns."

They had by now arrived at what still appeared to be a sort of cove, and even as the lamp and deck lights went out, Caldwell ordered the engines off and an anchor weighed. The sudden dark and silence was almost shocking, but instead of leaving them alone and in the dark, a whole new world of sights and sounds was revealed all around them.

"My word..." Rodney heard Dr Beckett exclaim softly, amongst the other quiet sounds of astonishment coming from the crowd gathered on the deck. The space they had arrived in was vast indeed, and the water upon which they floated a true sea. The last thrum of their engines as they shut down, echoed off some nearby cliffs above them, and reverberated faintly from some far, far distance, some long seconds later.

The sound of small waves coming to the nearby shore could also be heard in the ensuing silence, along with the distant roar and slash of falling water, from somewhere above. It seemed, after a moment, that Rodney could hear other sounds as well, of stone striking stone, or something that sounded like the shuffle of footsteps, but he was certain he must be mistaken, for not a thing besides themselves moved in this vast, dark space.

His eyes scanned the 'heavens' that lay hundreds of feet above them, seeing the 'stars' finally resolve, as Rodney became accustomed to the low light, into patches of what were most likely bio-luminescent moss or fungus. He could see now that it grew not only on the cavern ceiling, but on the upper walls as well, where he could see them. There was no danger of his claustrophobia bothering him, as the space was so vast that Rodney couldn't even see what lay on the far side of the sea upon which they now floated.

"Hey, what's that?" Sheppard called out. He stood at the starboard rail of the halfdeck, looking up at the high wall which rose up from the sea near them, and pointing at a spot partway up it. 

The land which ascended steeply from the shore, revealed in the faint illumination from the false stars, proved to be neither sheer nor featureless. Instead, Rodney could see that that it was riddled with dark indentations that could be caves, tunnels or paths cut into the rock face. It was along one of these indentations, which cut a long sloping track across the cliff face, that Sheppard seemed to be indicating, and when Rodney stared harder, he saw, possibly, what it was that Sheppard was seeing.

The lights were the same color and strength as the false stars above, and therefore did not call much attention to themselves... save that they were moving. They seemed to move quite slowly at first, but this was because, Rodney finally figured out, they were some distance away yet, and as they all watched, the lights seemed to grow closer, and somewhat brighter.

"There _are_ people here!" Dr Weir exclaimed. "And they cannot have missed our arrival. I believe we should prepare for guests."

"You seem quite certain that they're coming as friendly visitors, Dr Weir," Cauldwell commented. "I'm somewhat more inclined to order the gun crews to stations."

"By all means," Dr Weir said without hesitation. "There's no harm in being prepared for more than one contingency, but there's no point in assuming the worst, especially when those who approach seem to make no efforts to hide themselves. That doesn't strike me as the act of a party with hostile intentions."

"You may be right," Cauldwell replied. "In truth, I hope you are, but I'll have the gunnery crews stand by all the same. May we have the deck lights back as well?"

Dr Weir assented, and when Rodney returned from the chart room he found her waiting just outside with a request that he rig up his 'mantle chandelier' as well. Zelenka appeared on deck, sweaty and grease smudged, but ecstatic at their safe landing, just in time to help Rodney with the assembly of the device. He did a fair job of making himself highly useful, but Rodney was sure he was mainly there to steal his designs.

With the two of them working together, it was no more than fifteen minutes before the blazing circle of lanterns was being hoisted up to hang suspended over the Daedalus' deck. It brilliantly illuminated nearly the whole ship, from stem to stern, and threw a surprising amount of reflected light from the lower surface of the silvery lift vessel onto the land and sea all around them. It was in that light that they first saw the forms of party approaching them.

There were only five of them, and they carried things that looked like lanterns, but which shone with the same blue green light as the mysterious false stars above. One man was quite tall, and walked with a long staff -which he might conceivably use as a weapon- and there seemed that there was a woman among them, but none carried any obvious weapon, nor did they seem to be wearing any kind of armor -though that was hard to tell at a distance, and in the low light, Sheppard pointed out.

The reflected light also showed the cove they'd chosen to anchor in to be a true one, with something like a pebbled beach only a few hundred feet from their port side. Their visitors seemed to be making for that beach and so a crowd of people came to gather at the Daedalus' port-side rail to see their approach. Rodney found himself standing along side Dr Weir and Captain Sheppard, with Peter Grodin, Dr Beckett and Major Lorne. Sumner had all his Marines mustered on the deck behind them, and Caldwell was on the gun deck, checking over the crews.

The speculative murmuring of the crowd on the deck dropped to silence as the five figures finally arrived on the beach and stood there for a moment, shading their eyes from the brilliant light shining above the Daedalus' deck. There was indeed one woman among them, with long, gleaming red hair, and she seemed to take the position of leader. All of them wore clothes that looked to be of leather or homespun cloth, and there was not a sword or spear to be seen among them, though it might be that two of them had bows and arrows.

The red haired woman raised her hand then, in an unmistakable gesture of greeting, and spoke in a high, clear voice.

"Greetings, visitors from the Realms Above! Welcome to the Realms Below. Will you say who you are and what brings you here?"

Instinctively, Grodin, Sheppard and the others stepped back from Dr Weir, giving her a prominent position at the center of the port-side rail. She raised her own hand in an answering gesture and spoke her reply.

"I am Elizabeth Weir, leader of this expedition. Our vessel is the Airship Daedalus, and our purpose is one of exploration and the search for knowledge. We come with peaceful intentions, and eagerly seek new friends, but we also come prepared to defend ourselves, as we venture into the unknown with caution."

"My heart is glad to hear your words, Elizabeth Weir," the woman on the shore answered. "I am Teyla Emmagen, and I offer you an invitation, if you are sincere in your desire to seek new friends -each morning before dawn our people drink a stout tea to brace us for the coming day. Will you join us?"

 

****  



	6. Chapter Five: In which we meet the Athosians and learn of the Ancient Ones' Legacy

**Chapter 5**

**  
"Some who affirm the existence of a hollow earth would have us believe that it is entirely hollow, like a vast, glass Christmas ornament, but this is foolishness.  Instead, it is honeycombed with caverns and passages vast and small, some all but isolated, others linked in impossibly complex networks.  Some hold life, some hold entire civilizations, others are entirely barren.  No man from the surface, or below could possibly know all of what lies in and on our Earth, and countless generations of explorers would be required to gather all this knowledge." **

  
_** -from the private, unpublished memoirs of Arne Saknussenn ** _

 

_** ~~~~~ ** _

  
John Sheppard would have liked to keep Dr Weir back on the Daedalus for this first meeting, but the look on her face when she accepted the native woman's invitation told him that persuading her to do so would be impossible. Sumner naturally tried, nonetheless, and when he failed, assigned two marines, Ford and Stackhouse -in addition to himself- to accompany the party.

Caldwell sent Major Lorne, Elizabeth had requested Sheppard, and McKay invited himself. No one even tried to tell him no. Fortunately, the natives didn't seem to have any complaints about the size of their party, and so the seven of them loaded into one of the Daedalus' ordinary, water-going launches and crossed to the pebbled beach, becoming the first 'upper dwellers' (as Teyla dubbed them) to set foot on the land of the Inner Realms in over a generation.

"But not the very first?" Dr Weir asked the native woman, Teyla. She smiled in reply, and though Sheppard expected her smile to be patronizing, there was not a trace of it.

"As you came here by intent, and not by accident," Teyla answered, "I can see that you have taken considerable preparations for your journey. I imagine you have also searched your own histories for the records and writings of those who went before you, and must therefore know that you are not the first. Am I not correct?"

"You are," Weir answered with an unfounded smile of her own. "And I am glad to see that the knowledge of our forerunners is still kept among your people, and not lost."

"Of course," Teyla replied. "History is out wisest teacher, and those who keep it are honored among our people. I myself, though I serve our people now as the head woman of our settlement, study to be a keeper of tales, when I am older. The tales of the visitors who came to us from the Realms Above were always my favorites, when I was young, and I know them better than any other, still."

"Then perhaps the first thing we may exchange is tales," Dr Weir replied. "I have made my own studies of our tales of explorers who went forth to discover the Realms Below -of those who returned and those who did not." John lost his focus on what the two women were saying as they made their way up the trail, shifting his attention, instead, to their dimly lit and unfamiliar surroundings.

Teyla had invited them all to follow her and her companions, whom she had introduced as Halling (the tall one), Kenaan, Trenith and Mediro, up to their 'settlement' for tea. When asked how long journey would be, she had only been able to tell them, 'not long', for they had no common frame of reference for time. Trusting, they'd set off on the path she lead them to, retracing the route she and her escort had taken to meet them, John guessed.

McKay had brought a small one of his mantle lanterns, but Teyla had insisted that they wouldn't need it for their journey, and John was glad that he had (grudgingly) complied. Once they were away from the brightly lit Daedalus, his eyes had quickly adjusted to the relative darkness again, and following the track Teyla lead them on was no difficulty.

This was not to say that the journey was without danger, for the path was steep and narrow, and dropped away precipitously on one side. The glowing... moss or fungus, or whatever it was, seemed to be placed strategically along their route, however, throwing light onto the path in various spots, and making the way clear. Its light was tenuous, however, and the glaring light from McKay's mantle lantern would have rendered it essentially invisible.

Even McKay seemed to have grasped this point finally, and some way into their journey he stopped to examine the glowing 'moss' more closely. John stepped over to his side to see what had captured his attention.

"It just doesn't seem natural, to me," he was saying to Lorne, as he pointed to a patch of the stuff growing just at eye level above the path. "And here, look -it's shaped like a perfect arrow. You can't tell me it grew that way by itself."

"Indeed, it did not," Teyla commented, having noticed that they'd stopped. "Our people have learned to make a special tincture, which nurtures and strengthens this organism -which we call _lux vivendi_ , the living light. Our children are given the job of regularly applying the tincture on the patches that we have caused to grow along the paths, so that the way may be lighted." She called their attention now to a spot a little way ahead where, Sheppard saw after a moment, the path diverged into two others.

"We can also use this tincture to cause the lux to grow into symbols that identify where each track leads," she said, pointing out one particular patch of what Sheppard was personally calling 'glow moss'. Now that Teyla had pointed it out, Sheppard could see that its odd, ornate shape was no more natural than the arrows McKay had noticed earlier.

"This is the symbol we use to mean 'sweet water' -water that is fit for drinking," Teyla explained further, "as the water below is not. Above, where this path leads, is a large pool from which our people get their drinking water, but which is sacred to us as well, for other reasons."

"May I ask what those reasons are?" Dr Weir asked as they began to move forward again.

"Some you may know, some you may not," Teyla said cryptically. "The lake, and the knowledge of what lies within it are my people's sacred trust."

"Of course," Dr Weir said diplomatically. "We gladly accept what is freely given, but would never pry, nor steal secrets which you would not divulge. That I promise you."

Teyla was as good as her word, John noted, as it was only a short while later that they arrived in her 'settlement' -a larger, fire-lit opening, or cavern at the end of their path, with many, smaller caverns branching off from the main one. The wide opening of the main cavern looked out over the sea, where the blazingly bright figure of the Daedalus was prominently visible, far below. Within the settlement cavern Sheppard could make out a few people moving about in the low, but fire warm light, as well as many artifacts of human habitation, including carpets, baskets, tables and chairs, shelves bearing ceramic cook-wear and others bearing books and scrolls. It smelled of human habitation as well, in a sharp contrast to the sterile scents of sea salt and damp earth that lay without.

A pair of sentries greeted them as they drew near, but they had evidently spotted Teyla approaching from afar, and let them pass without trouble. A boy of ten or twelve years broke free of the group of people clustered around the cook fire and raced toward the tall native who'd accompanied them, arms outstretched.

"Father, father!" he cried as the tall man, Halling, gathered the boy up in his arms. "Is it true? Are they really visitors from the Realms Above?"

Halling greeted his son, inclining his head so that their foreheads touched, then drew back to address him with affectionate admonishment. “Wherever they are from, they are our guests, Jinto,” he said. “Greet them as guests and offer to trade tales with them, and then you may satisfy your curiosity.”

The boy nodded obediently, then stepped back and turned to address Dr Weir. “Forgive me, honored guests,” he said, with perfect decorum. “I am Jinto, and our clan and our enclave is named Athos. Halling is my father, and I would very much like to trade tales with you… if you would be pleased to do so?”

“I am most pleased to meet you, Jinto,” Weir replied with out a hint in her tone that she was addressing a boy rather than a head of state. “My name is Elizabeth, and we have come for the very purpose of sharing our tales and hearing whatever tales the people here would like to share with us. It is true that we are explorers from the Realms Above, as you name them -the first to come here in over eighty years.”

"My gramma told stories about when visitors from Above came, before," Jinto carried on. "But they came on foot. Me and Wex -he's my cousin- we saw your ship come down, and then we saw the big light you made. Wex says it's the sun -that you brought it here with you on your ship!"

John could see Elizabeth restraining a laugh, but McKay rolled his eyes hugely. "Then your cousin Wex is an idiot," he pronounced. "First of all, the sun is millions of miles away, in space, and second, it's considerably bigger than the entire planet -several times bigger."

John glanced cautiously at Jinto, and his father, to see if they had taken any offence at McKay's words, but the boy merely seemed a bit confounded, and Halling faintly amused.

"This is Dr McKay," Elizabeth introduced him, quick to sooth ruffled feathers, even if none were apparent. "He is our chief scientist, and scientific facts of this sort are quite important to him. For my part, I am somewhat surprised to find that your people know anything of the sun at all. Surely it must be known only from the tales of travelers such as ourselves?"

"The name, and the facts about it we have from visitors, it is true," Halling replied, "but its light has blessed us here since the time of the Ancient Ones. It was they who brought the sun's light to us here, countless generations ago, to protect us from the Winged Evil -that which fears the light."

"How..." McKay was the first to ask the question everyone was wondering now. "How did the Ancient Ones... 'bring' the sun's light down here?"

"How?" Halling echoed their question. "It is a daily miracle which all of us who dwell here celebrate, and you may see it for yourself in a moment. Come, sit and take tea with us and observe how it comes to pass."

They all followed Halling to large table situated not too far from the opening of the settlement cavern, which looked out over the subterranean sea, and over the spot where the Daedalus sat anchored, shining like a beacon on the dark waters. There probably would have been room for all of them at the table, but Sumner chose to remain standing nearby and Lt. Ford, after a moment's hesitation, did likewise. 

Sheppard sat and sipped cautiously at the mug of hot beverage he was handed, and found it to be pleasantly sweet and fortifying, though nothing like coffee or tea. Sitting to his left, McKay sniffed at his drink suspiciously.

"Do you think this has any lemon in it, Sheppard?" he asked. "I'm deathly allergic to lemon, you know, and people are always putting it in tea..."

"I'm pretty sure they don't grow lemons anywhere down here, McKay," John said, refraining from rolling his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure they don't grow tea here either," McKay retorted, taking a tentative first sip. "What is this stuff made of, anyway?"

"It's kreffy," Jinto piped up with the answer. "Three kinds all mixed together, to make the best tea."

"And what, I hesitate to ask," inquired Lorne, who was sitting on John's right, "is 'kreffy'?"

This seemed beyond Jinto's ability to answer, and he looked up at Teyla, who considered the matter a moment before answering. "It is... something that grows on the rocks in places where the sun's light lingers the longest," she told them finally. "There are several varieties -as Jinto has said- of different color and form, and some we use for dyes, others for seasoning our food, and others still for making this beverage. It was served to our other visitors from above in times past, and never have any come to harm from it."

Lorne and Lt Stackhouse now hazarded a taste and seemed to find it unobjectionable, and eventually all the others at the table followed suit. "It is an appealing drink," Elizabeth commented. "I very much look forward to inviting you to take tea or coffee with us soon, to see what you think of these beverages of ours..." Teyla interrupted her then, with a gentle touch to her wrist.

"It begins," she said reverently, pointing out and down, toward the sea, and toward the dark place wherein lay the long tunnel from which they had entered the Realms Below. Upon following Teyla's gaze, however, John saw that the place was no longer completely dark. Thin shards of light now glowed in a glittering halo around the tunnel entrance, and even as he watched, the shards grew into shining scales... or plates... and then John realized what he was looking at.

He remembered the fleeting vision of girders and enormous, polished disks they'd flown past (and possibly brushed against) moments before they'd left the tunnel. This must surely be what they were seeing now, and its purpose was now stunningly obvious. Even as he saw McKay stand in amazement beside him, John heard a sound -a celebratory ululation- rising gradually from all parts of the great cavern, and from the folk around him, in this very settlement.

 

John stood himself, astonished by the marvel of more and more mirrors at the tunnel mouth catching the light of the rising sun far above them, and becoming visible -blazing more and more brightly by the second. Little by little, the cavern was filling with light -at the lower level at least- though the upper reaches remained shrouded in darkness. Then, to the astonishment of everyone in their party, a new, bright light, bloomed into brilliance far above their heads, throwing a direct light upon everyone in their little settlement side-cavern.

John gazed upward, along with everyone else, and saw now that there was another array of mirrors above them, catching the light from below and across the sea, and casting it downward, into the settlement. As clear, soft daylight filled the little enclave, Jinto and a number of other youngsters took up a sort of yipping chant that echoed around the great cavern, and a short while later it was answered with another, different chant.

John searched the expanse of the great cavern for the source of this new chant and found it, as he found another point of illumination above them and to their right. Their chant was, in turn, answered by another, which issued from yet another newly illuminated enclave, and John watched in fascination as one after another, various settlements received their gift of light, and celebrated it with their voices.

Within a short span of time, the whole greater cavern had come alive with light and voices, and John saw expressions of delight and joy on the newly revealed faces of his fellow expedition members -even the generally dour Sumner.

The songs and chants now devolved into shouts, cries and banter. Personal messages were passed across the expanses; vendors and craftsmen yelled out the wears they had to offer for the day, and youngsters teased and dared each other, to come and play or fight. Suddenly, in the space of a few minutes, the great cavern was a lively, peopled space -something John never would have guessed possible when they first arrived, only a few hours ago.

"Too often," Dr Weir said in a voice of hushed reverence, "I have heard people claim a thing to be miraculous, but this... this is indeed a true miracle -the truest I have ever witnessed."

"I believe I would say the same," Lorne added. "And you may not know it, ma'am," he addressed Teyla, "but I've seen a fair share of miraculous things in my time, and I dare say that Dr Weir here has seen even more."

Teyla inclined her head in gracious acceptance, returning Lorne's smile with one of her own. She appeared to be framing a reply when there came a flurry of shouts from within the enclave, calling for her attention. She and Halling excused themselves to see what the matter was, and as John observed the ensuing conversation, there was much pointing towards a part of the Athosian cavern which remained in shadow. The conversation also seemed to involve them, John read by the frequent glances sent their way, and more than a few hands seemed to point accusingly in their direction.

Dr Weir was watching too, and she and John exchanged uncertain glances as the discourse continued and further pointing gestures seemed to indicate the sea below, and possibly the Daedalus. It came to John then, with sudden sinking realization, and when his gaze turned to meet McKay's, he saw that the scientist had come to the same conclusion. He, McKay and Weir all stepped over to gaze down at the Daedalus, and then across, at the great array of mirrored plates that surrounded the entrance. There was a small gap, he could see now, in the halo of reflected, concentrated sunlight, and he was depressingly certain that he knew how it had come to be.

"We did that, didn't we?" Weir asked, troubled.

John nodded. "We definitely hit something on the way out," he said with a frown. "And that array -it looks like it surrounds the entrance completely. That has to be what we hit."

"You don't know that for a fact, Sheppard," Sumner said, coming to join them. "And you certainly don't want to be advertising it to the indigenies."

"On the contrary," Elizabeth said. "I believe the situation calls for complete honesty. We will never build any sort of good relations with these people if we begin by hiding the truth."

"May I remind you, Dr Weir, that we don't actually know what the truth is," Sumner said, voice low. "You risk damaging our alliance before it's even begun, and placing us in these people's debt, all because of a mere speculation."

"Oh please," McKay said, not bothering to keep quiet at all. "You _know_ we hit something, and we wouldn't be standing here watching all this drama if having that part of the cave unlit like that was normal. Whether it's our fault or not, they're going to blame us, and if we deny it..."

"It will make us seem to be liars, as well as vandals," Dr Weir finished. "I would rather we appeared as willing to make amends, or to remedy the situation, even if we are not sure who is to blame."

"And how do you propose to remedy this?" Sumner said, his hand sweeping out to encompass the entire enclave. By chance, his hand dropped as it seemed to indicate the table at which they'd all been sitting a moment ago, and there, sitting on top of the table, was McKay's mantle lamp.

Significant glances were exchanged all around, and just then Teyla returned, her brow furrowed with concern. "Forgive me, my friends," she said, standing with them to look out over the sea. "I would not begin our association with an accusation, but I see you too have noticed the flaw in the Ancient Ones' gift, and see how a part of our settlement remains in darkness. It is a difficult test of our newly formed trust, but I promise you, by the honor of the Ancient Ones, that this flaw was not there before you arrived, and yesterday, all our settlement was illuminated, as it is not today. It is difficult not to draw conclusions."

"My friend," Elizabeth stressed this as she turned to the leader of the settlement. "We too have drawn conclusions, and they are no different from yours, I think. Our voyage to your realms was not without mishap, and our vessel was damaged. It may be that we have, indeed, also damaged the array that lies at the entrance to the passage, but I promise you that this was not done intentionally. The harm to our own vessel was not insignificant, as you can see for yourself, if you would have evidence."

There followed a brief, troubled silence, during which the two Marines, Ford and Stackhouse, stood to flank Dr Weir, and Halling stepped up to stand at Teyla's shoulder. He bent his head to speak softly into her ear -but not so softly as to be unintelligible to Sheppard.

"Teyla, I too find these visitors likable and well mannered," he said, "but in truth, we do not know them at all. Some of our people have spoken to me, urging that you hold this in your mind."

The settlement leader looked up sharply, brows furrowed. "How can they imagine that I have forgotten?" she snapped. My own father's sister's home is one of those affected! But it is in no one's interest that we make enemies of these newcomers if they have, in truth, made an honest and understandable mistake, for all the harm they may have done."

One by one, more of the inhabitants of Athos were coming over to stand at Teyla's side, facing the expedition members who stood, John realized unhappily, with the opening to the cavern at their back. It was nothing but a sheer drop onto rocks, hundreds of feet below, and if they made a break for the entrance to the path, where they'd arrived, the Athosians could easily cut them off. He, Sumner and the Marines all carried pistols. but opening fire on these people was unthinkable. They dared not let the situation devolve into violence, and so it seemed that their fate lay in Dr Weir's hands.

"It is true," she spoke now with a clear, steady voice, loudly enough that everyone could hear her. "We are newcomers, and though we have spoken of friendship, we know that true friendship requires more than words, but evolves from a history of actions, and sacrifices. We haven't had a chance yet, to prove ourselves, either to be true allies or false, and I wish nothing more than to remedy that situation."

She nodded at McKay then, and gestured everyone toward the table where they'd taken tea, and where McKay's mantle lantern still sat. The scientist stepped quickly over to the table himself and began to set the lantern up, fiddling with various knobs and beginning to pump it. Now Dr Weir, along with Sheppard and the other expedition members, also moved to stand beside the table where McKay worked.

"You've all seen the light we created on our ship, I think?" Weir asked everyone now, and was answered with nods from the crowd.

"We have," Teyla answered as well. "And it does seem... almost miraculous."

"It may seem so," Weir replied, "but it is, in fact, a product of our technology and science. It was created by Dr McKay here, who is one of our finest scientists, and the device he is preparing now is a smaller version of the very light which illuminates the Daedalus. Dr McKay...?"

"I need a light," he said, snapping his fingers, and at a signal from Halling, Jinto bolted off to the cook fire and returned a moment later with a glowing twig cupped in his hands. McKay raised the glass chimney and directed the boy where to place the flame, and the mantle caught, flaming up hugely at first and causing the crowd to gasp. McKay got it under control a few seconds later, though, and lamp bloomed into brilliance.

Illuminated by the great parabolic mirrors above, the settlement cavern was not exactly dark, but even so, McKay's mantle lantern beamed even more brightly. The faces of the gathered Athosians, pale in the nearly searing light, showed expressions of amazement and stunned disbelief, and nearly all of them were squinting.

"If we have robbed you of light," Weir said now, "then I offer this lantern as compensation, and promise further, to put the skills of our scientists to work repairing what we have damaged, as much as we are able."

"You would make a gift of this?" Teyla asked now, eyes wide with amazement. Sumner, John saw, also looked a little amazed, and not in a good way, but Weir ignored him.

"It would seem that the loss of light in your settlement is of graver consequences than we fully understand," she answered Teyla, "but a gift of light, in exchange for the light we caused to be lost, seems the most honorable act, and the most practical."

At Dr Weir's words, John felt the tension between the two groups of people seem to vanish, as the Athosians glanced about at one another in surprise at this offer, and at the expedition members clustered together by the brightly glowing lantern. Soon Teyla was introducing the expedition members to the families whose homes had been deprived of light and McKay was giving them snappish but accurate instructions on how to operate and maintain the lantern. Dr Weir promised to have more fuel delivered, as part of their gift, which made Sumner frown more deeply still, though he held his tongue.

"You see?" John heard Teyla ask Halling as they watched McKay's tutorial. "These are actions which speak to their worthiness as friends. I think we will not be sorry in this alliance."

"Indeed, I am not displeased to have these visitors as friends rather than enemies," Halling answered, "but there is still much to learn about them, and this we should endeavor to do."

"I do not disagree, my friend," Teyla said, "but they have a great deal to learn about us as well, and we should endeavor to share these things with them, as much as we would know of them."

"Sharing," John said, stepping into the conversation. "I'd definitely be in favor or more sharing. Me, um, I like, uh, carnival pleasure wheels and, uh, association football and anything that gets more than fifty feet off the ground."

Teyla looked at him curiously, and John knew that half of what he'd said might not make sense to the woman. Still, he found her... compelling in a way he couldn't describe, except that it seemed to make him babble. "Just." he shrugged, "trying to get into the, ah sharing spirit."

Teyla smiled at him then, a wide, open smile that transformed her whole face. "I too would enter into this spirit," she said, her expression sobering, "but the first thing you must know about us, and our world, is of our enemy, who would, I fear, be your enemy too, as you are peoples of the world above, which is a world of light. Our enemies are creatures of the dark, and all darkness harbors them."

John looked over to where a small party of Athosians were carrying the mantle lantern up to the shadowed portion of the settlement, hearing the exclamations of joy and relief as the light fell over the handful of small cave entrances there.

"That's why it's so dangerous that even a small part of your settlement doesn't have light?" he asked, seeing how each entrance was guarded with a heavy door, which the residents only opened once the light was hung and stable. Those villagers who had gathered to see the miraculous lantern began to disperse now to their various daily tasks, and Dr Weir came to join John and Teyla, catching the last bit of their conversation.

"Any patch of darkness large enough to hide even a small child can hide one or more of our enemies," Teyla answered John's question as she nodded to Dr Weir. "They move silently and faster than the eye can follow; they may hide in small shadows for half a day or longer, and they strike without warning. They take children and the old, especially, and there is not one family here who has not lost someone to these evil creatures."

Sumner, McKay Ford, Lorne and Stackhouse had all gathered as Teyla spoke, intent on her words, and their expressions were as grave as hers.

"What about our people on the Daedalus -our ship," Sumner inquired immediately. "Are they in danger?"

"Not as long as they remain in light," Teyla answered. "All light burns the enemy, even the soft light of the _lux vivendi_ , if there is enough of it. You are all safe, therefore, during the daytime, but during the dark time, you would well be advised to keep your great lantern lit."

"And not to waste fuel during the day!" McKay pointed out crossly, indicating how the mantle chandelier hanging over the Daedalus' deck could still be seen to be blazing away. "Someone needs to go and tell those idiots to turn it off."

"Ford, Stackhouse," Sumner commanded immediately. "Think you can find the way back?" Dr Weir interrupted before they could answer, however.

"Before they go, Colonel," she suggested, "might it not be better to have them wait a little, to hear more of what Teyla can tell us about these enemies, so that they they can give a fuller briefing to those on the Daedalus?"

Sumner gave her a sharp look, but though he was not a man who took kindly to having his order questioned, John knew he was also a man who knew good sense when he heard it. He nodded curtly after a moment, then gestured his men back. "Very well," he said. "What more can you tell us about these enemies?"

"A great deal," Teyla said, "for countless generations of our peoples have striven to survive the depredations of these creatures. Come sit and share our morning meal, and I will tell you what you need to know."

The morning meal consisted of strips of dried fish and a savory sort of pancake which John thought might have been made from mushrooms, along with more 'tea' (which John suspected -based on Teyla's description of kreffy- to be made from some sort of lichen, though he was never telling McKay that). John found all the food to be delicious, though McKay and Ford both picked suspiciously at their pancake.

"In our researches," Dr Weir asked before Teyla could begin her tale, "we have read of something called the 'winged evil', which the Ancient Ones supposedly fought against. Would these be the same creatures as the enemies you speak of now?"

"Almost certainly," Teyla said with a nod. "For they do bear wings, as well as walk on two legs as we do, having roughly the same form and size as men. They live in the high reaches, where the light does not extend, and their wings give then the freedom of those realms. They would have the freedom of our regions as well, were it not for the Ancient Ones' Gift, which brings the light of the sun here, to keep the creatures at bay."

"Are they intelligent?" Sumner asked. "Are you able to communicate with them, or are they... simply animals, who cannot be reasoned with?" Teyla replied with a puzzled look.

"You make an assumption, with your question," she said, "which is incorrect. Our enemy is clearly intelligent; they have an organized society, and are able to plan, strategize and use tools. They even appear to have a language, of sorts, but they cannot be reasoned with." Both Weir and Sumner looked as if they would like to argue the point, but Teyla shook her head.

"I do not know how things are in the Realms Above," she said. "If there exist no creatures such as these in your Realms, then you are truly blessed, but there can be no reasoning with creatures who see you only as food, and know no other source of nourishment."

"Food?" Ford exclaimed in alarm. "They _eat_ people?"

"Drink..." Teyla said, mouth twisted in distaste, "might be a better word."

"Blood drinkers?" Dr Weir said, looking a little pale -and she was not the only one. "The Winged Evil are blood drinkers? This was not mentioned in any of the old accounts... though I do not for a moment doubt your words. I can think of many reasons why this information was omitted, the chiefest of these being shame."

"Shame?" Teyla inquired. "Whose shame?"

Elizabeth did not answer immediately, but frowned for a moment instead, examining her hands where they lay folded on the table. "I do not know," she said eventually, "the extent of the esteem in which you must hold the Ancient Ones. Clearly, you must bear them some gratitude at least, for the gifts they left for your protection, but... have you any tales about how the Winged Evil first came to be, or how they first came to these Realms, from another place -a place deeper still in the bowels of the Earth than such places as this?"

John had wondered, at first, of the reason for Weir's apparent reluctance, but then considered. If Teyla's people saw the Ancient Ones as tantamount to Gods, they might not care to hear the story they'd all read, about how the Ancient Ones, in their arrogance, had released the Winged Evil into the upper realms of the Hollow Earth, and nearly to the outer world. He watched the native leader carefully, but she kept her expression masked.

After a moment's contemplation, Teyla bent her head forward, to speak in a low voice. "There are tales which are known, and kept, but seldom shared, among my people, and among them are some which allude to what you have spoken of here," she said. "At such a time and place a this," she continued, glancing around at the folk -young and old- going about their daily business, "it is not... appropriate to share such tales. Instead, I would share another that may also be pertinent to you."

"Of course," Dr Weir said. "As I said before, we will not pry, nor would we violate your traditions, and we're eager to hear any tale which we have not heard before."

At these words, Teyla smiled broadly, and relaxed, and John could see Weir relax as well. "The tale is one we tell our children often," Teyla said, "for it speaks both of our history and something of our future, and it holds a moral that all must learn and take to heart." She drew herself up in her seat now, and assumed the attitude of a story teller, recounting a tale told many times.

"It is said," she began, "that many long generations ago, the Ancient Ones lived and walked among us. They kept themselves apart, in many ways, and kept scores of great secrets, far beyond what any of us can imagine now, but they freely offered aid and assistance to any who asked. In those days, we are told, never did any man woman or child suffer from want of any basic need, and few if any were taken by the Evil Ones, so powerful was the Ancient Ones' protection."

John listened with interest, as did everyone else at the table. Teyla's words seemed well worn, almost ritualistic, lending weight and importance, in John's mind, to the tale.

"In spite of these seemingly happy circumstances, however," Teyla continued, "there were some who grew discontent -perhaps covetous of the Ancient Ones' powerful secrets, or perhaps suspecting the very thing of which you have spoken. For whatever reason, the discontent of a few spread to many."

John nodded, sadly familiar with this self destructive aspect of human nature, and he saw others around the table doing likewise.

"Few were there who would voice these complaints to the Ancient Ones themselves," Teyla continued, "but many were those who made bold to express their discontent among their fellows. Some agreed, some were disinclined to care, and others found the very idea of questioning the Ancient Ones objectionable and even bordering on blasphemous. Soon enough, the people fell to fighting amongst themselves, and those reluctant to take sides grew fewer and fewer in number.

"The Ancient Ones themselves never interfered in our lives unless invited," Teyla continued, "but after several outbreaks of violence, they became aware of the reason for it, and declared that they would be the cause of no further such conflicts. No one could imagine how they could keep such a promise, yet when it became apparent that the Ancient Ones were, little by little, departing our realms, people were shocked and surprised. They begged the last few Ancient Ones to stay, not understanding that they were the cause of their departure."

Typical, John thought as Teyla paused to take a sip of tea. People are too often their own worst enemies, too deluded, and greedy, not to kill the goose that lays the golden egg, time and time again.

"I am not one who believes the Ancient Ones to have been infallible," Teyla said after a moment, "but I do not think they were ever intentionally cruel, either. They knew that not all our people were to blame in the conflict, and so left us with something to hope for, before the last of them departed. 'We do not depart these realms for all time,' they promised, though they also said that many generations would pass before they returned, and that they would not be recognised upon their return either."

"In fact, our ancestors were told that the returning Ancient Ones might not even recognise themselves, and for that reason we were left with a trust. It was a wise woman from this very settlement who was given this trust -two items, both of which were passed down until my grandmother's day. At that time, one of the items was deemed to be in danger here from the Winged Evil, who we call Wraith, and delivered into safekeeping elsewhere. The other remains in my family's possession, and thus I have it still."

Everyone considered this story in silence for a moment, and then Elizabeth spoke, cautiously. "Is this... trust from the Ancient Ones something we may see, or know of...?"

"Not only may you see it," Teyla answered with a smile, "but I am, in fact, enjoined to show it to all visitors from the Upper Realms, for it is to those Realms that the Ancient Ones were said to have departed, and it is from those Realms that it has been foretold that they will return -though they may not know themselves when they do."

With those words Teyla now reached up to remove a pendant from around her neck. A small gem lay at its center and the moment he saw it John Sheppard felt compelled to touch it. It was possibly the strangest thing he had ever felt, he would reflect later, and it was nearly shocking to see his own hand reach across the table for it before Teyla had even completely removed it from around her neck.

He caught himself, pulling back before he actually grabbed it out of her hands, but Teyla met his eyes then, seeing God knew what, and slowly handed it over to him. With the utmost control, John held his hand open for her to drop the pendant into it, and it had barely touched his skin when it flared into brilliant life, glowing a bright, crystalline blue.

"Well," Teyla said, head tilted as she marveled at the sight and John stared, mouth agape at the glowing pendant in his hand. "It would appear that you will be hearing many more of the old tales, now."

***

What a mess, Peter Grodin thought to himself, and not for the first time, as he plunged back into wreckage on the deck, seeking to disentangle the various parts of the starboard wing strut from the snarls of cable and other debris from their unfortunate encounter with the tunnel walls.

The better part of the apparatus had been thrown up onto the half-deck from the force of the collision -nearly burying the helm- and Peter had been gathering up any parts that had broken free all morning. These he'd delivered to Dr Zelenka on the main deck, where he was beginning to reassemble the whole wing strut. He had the plans rolled out on the chart room tables and he'd been running back and forth from there to the main deck all morning while Peter had been running up and down between the quarter deck and the main.

They'd completely missed, therefor, the very beginning of the 'sunrise', but the port side lookout had spotted it soon enough and called everyone's attention to the mysterious ring of light slivers surrounding the entrance to the cavern. Peter had gone to stand near Dr Beckett and McKay's sister -who'd all come up from below decks- as they all stood and watched in astonishment. Before their eyes the slivers had grown to crescents, then to disks and that was when he'd heard Radek had shout, "Aha! Mirrors -catching the sunlight from above! They are the mirrors we saw at the end of the tunnel!"

"You mean the mirrors we _hit_ at the end of the tunnel?" Caldwell had commented, pointing over to a gap in the perfect pattern of shining disks.

"Oh my," Peter'd said to himself, but before he could think anything further everyone on the deck had gasped because a new light had appeared in the cavern, across the sea from the tunnel entrance, and high above it. Blinking hard to discern what he was seeing, Peter had realized that this was more reflected sunlight, relayed from the tunnel entrance to another set of mirrors, which threw the light down into what might possibly be some sort of settlement.

They'd all heard the shouts and songs of celebration that had followed, ringing from one new point of light to another, as more and more settlements were illuminated, high and low, near and far, in every corner of the vast cavern. Every corner save for the highest reaches, Peter had noted, and wondered at the reason for it.

It had been a glorious thing to see, to be sure, and Peter knew that this was why he had risked so much to come on the expedition. This was something utterly new, which no eyes from his world had ever seen before, and the grins and smiles he'd seen all around him told Peter that he was in good company.

The company mood had lifted further when Caldwell reported that he'd spotted Sumner, Sheppard and the others, through his spyglass, in the nearest settlement, and that they seemed to be conferring peacefully with the locals. He, along with everyone else, had gone back to work with a light heart, and he found the work easier too, now that the whole cavern was lit, and not only the Daedalus.

Without the deep, eye-confounding shadows created by the glaring light of McKay's mantle chandelier, the job of untangling the large, triangular, wing strut main brace (fabricated from a king's ransom worth of aluminium) from the rest of the wreckage was decidedly easier. He and a couple of airmen had it down on the main deck in less than an hour, and the remainder of the clean-up went remarkably quickly.

What followed was a lengthy meeting between Zelenka, Airman Hodson, the ship's blacksmith, Lorne and Cauldwell, to figure out how repairs could be done, and how much time and materials they would need. Peter was happy not to have to attend, and decided to reward himself for his morning's efforts with a cup of tea in the civilian staff mess. He found Dr Beckett there, along with Sister Constance and Lt Novak.

"What's the verdict, Doctor Grodin?" Novak asked, gesturing Peter over to join them as he came in and got his tea. "Will she fly again?"

"I should hope so," Peter replied. "But the jury's still out as to whether that wing strut will ever extend again. The main brace is still sound, thank God, but the secondary brace -that's where all the moving parts are- may have to be completely rebuilt."

"I thought ye'd packed spare parts for everything," Dr Beckett said. "Everything important, anyhow."

"We packed spare components, yes," Novak explained. "But those secondary braces are big and complicated. We couldn't afford the time or the extra weight to bring a whole extra one. The Daedalus' blacksmith, Hodson, is a real wizard with repairs, though, and your man, Zelenka -I've seen his work. He can fabricate anything Hodson can't fix."

"Will we really need them down here?" Sister Constance asked now. She had some paper out and had been doing some sort of mathematical figuring as they'd been talking, but it was clear she'd been listening with half an ear at least. "I mean, there isn't all that much distance to cross, so I don't see us needing all that much speed..."

"You're right about that, of course," Peter agreed, "but the wing struts give the Daedalus maneuverability along with speed, and that's something we may very well need down here."

Of course that raised the question of what they might need it for. In conventional thinking, airships generally needed maneuverability for battle situations, but who, in these realms, would the Daedalus find herself opposing, with her two batteries of little nine pounders? Peter wished that the answer might be no one, but he wasn't counting on it. He'd been working for the SPB too long to hold out that kind of hope.

Their conversation was interrupted about then by a shout from one of the lookouts, outside, and everyone made their way out onto the deck to see what the fuss was about. Across the deck Peter could see Lorne, Caldwell and the others from the meeting coming out on to the deck as well and at a signal from Caldwell the lookout repeated his message.

"Party approaching!" he shouted. "Two of ours and one of theirs!"

"Only two?" Caldwell called out, not exactly sounding worried, Peter thought.

"Rest of our party's still in view, back in the settlement," called another lookout, stationed over the stern and peering through a telescope. "No signs of trouble that I can see."

So they all waited and eventually the lookout was able to see that it was Stackhouse and Ford, accompanied by the native woman, Teyla Emagen, approaching. When they reached the Daedalus, permission to board was requested and granted and as soon as they arrived Ford asked that all senior staff be called together to hear what they had learned.

As Elizabeth Weir's 'right hand', Peter was included in that number, though later he wondered if he might not have been just a happy not to be. Certainly the tale Stackhouse and Ford relayed (with comments from Miss Emagen) was in no way conducive to anyone getting a good night's sleep, but forewarned was fore-armed at least.

Zelenka muttered darkly to himself when they relayed McKay's message about wasting fuel in the mantle lanterns, and immediately saw to it that the chandelier was lowered and extinguished.

"I cannot believe I was so careless," he said to Peter when he returned. "I know better than anyone else how precious this fuel is."

"Maybe," Peter replied. "But none of us expected to find out that our lives could depend on it. Really, who could have predicted such a thing as flying, light averse vampires?"

"After learning of the Goa'uld?" Zelenka answered, "what bizarre, unnatural evil might not be imagined? Failure of imagination, on this expedition, might be as dangerous for us as failure of intelligence or nerve."

Coffee and tea had been served while the lanterns had been seen to and now Miss Emagen and Caldwell called for their attention again. This time it was the native woman who addressed them.

"It brings me no joy, I assure you," she said, "to begin our association by introducing you to the horrors with which we must all contend, but as we would not have you fall victim to our enemies, you must know of the dangers they represent. I would have you know as well, however, that along with horrors, we also live with many great wonders here in these realms, and it is of our greatest wonder that I would speak of now."

Peter personally thought that the spectacle of sunlight entering the great cavern was no small wonder, and this was what Miss Emagen spoke of first. She spun a tale of the Ancient Ones, how they had once lived here, and how, and why, they had come to depart. Then she spoke of the promise they'd made, and as she spoke of this promise, she lifted a small, crystal pendant from around her neck, presenting it to all those gathered at the table.

"This token," she explained, "was left to my ancestors, and with it came a duty, that we present it to all who come to visit our realms from above. It has the power to reveal what has been lot or forgotten, in those who are, in some part, descended from the Ancient Ones."

" _Descended_ from the Ancient Ones?" asked Carson Beckett, who was staring at the pendant intently. "Is that why..." Peter watched him reach out slowly, seeming both reluctant and somehow compelled, and then Teyla dropped the pendant into his hand. The steady, blue glow that burst forthe from the crystal in the pendant the moment it touched Beckett's hand was visible to everyone at the table, even eliciting a gasp or two.

"It's the Touch of the Ancient Ones," Beckett said, wonder coloring his voice. "It must be... Sheppard, he made it glow too, didn't he?"

"That he did," Teyla confirmed. "Most brightly."

"Aye, I'll wager," Beckett said, handing the pendant across the table to Peter. "Here ye go, lad," he said. "It ought to work for you as well."

Wonderingly, Peter opened his hand to take it, feeling it warm against the skin of his palm, though Beckett had held it only for a few moments. The crystal flickered briefly, then began to glow steadily once more, and Peter stared in astonishment. He'd learned that he had the Touch of the Ancient Ones during their exploration of the Ancient Ones' outpost in Antarctica -though it was not so strong as Sheppard's- but seeing this fact demonstrated so eloquently, and being told that it meant that he actually carried a little of the blood of the Ancient Ones in his veins all but made his head spin.

"May I?" said a quiet voice next to him and Peter shook off his astonished daze to drop the little crystal into Dr Zelenka's outstretched hand. It flickered into darkness instantly.

"Ah well," he said with a resigned sigh. "I already failed Dr Beckett's test, so it is not a surprise, but still... _to je škoda._ "

Beckett had his own test, involving a small device of the Ancient Ones', and he'd had every member of the expedition submitted to it, but Caldwell thought it worthwhile to call all hands on deck anyhow. All those who'd passed Beckett's test made the pendant glow, just as Peter had, and a couple more made it glow as well, but only faintly. All in all, eight people among the Airmen, scientists and Marines on board the Daedalus were revealed to have ancestors from among the Ancient Ones, the fact of which made Teyla's eyes shine with happy anticipation.

"For countless generations," she explained to Caldwell and other senior staff standing on the deck as everyone else returned to their duties, "my people have held a secret in trust, against the day that you would come. I think I do not have to tell you that more than a few doubted that it ever would, and yet here you stand, and it is my happy duty to bring you to your legacy, which we have kept faithfully, in spite of everything."

"What sort of legacy?" Peter asked, wondering if this might be the equivalent of finding out that a rich uncle you never knew you had, had left you fortune of riches, or something more like a mansion with a deadly curse.

"I think," Teyla said after a moment, "that no words of mine can suffice, but it would be a great honor to escort you to where it lies hidden. Halling, my deputy, awaits my signal, back in our settlement, to bring your people from there, as I bring you from here. The distance is not far; just there lies the entrance."

So saying, the native leader crossed the deck and pointed up to where a spectacular ribbon of a waterfall plunged from high in the upper reaches of the cavern, into a pool whose existence they could only deduce by sound, and by the second waterfall which spilled forth from the lip of that pool. Lake, Peter came to think a little later, as he watched Teyla sketch out the size of the basin, might be a better description. Something vast and magnificent was hidden beneath its surface, if Teyla was to be believed, so it must be deep as well.

"Is it only those with Ancient Ones in their ancestry who may accompany you, Miss Emagen?" Peter asked, seeing Zelenka staring keenly out at the waterfall and thinking how it was he himself who had promised the Bohemian engineer that he would have a chance to see the wonders of the Ancient Ones.

"The legacy is yours, to do with it as you wish," Emagen said. "You are they keys which open the gate, and once the gate is opened you may allow whomever you wish to enter."

Peter nodded, and then considered that, with Dr Weir away, the decision of which scientists to take fell to him. "Very well," he said, and called for Dr Zelenka, Dr Parrish and Dr Beckett (both having the Touch), Dr Gaul -an electrical engineer, and Dr Corrigan, the expedition anthropologist.

"You have ten minutes to assemble a kit of things you think you'll need," Peter said, "which you'll be carrying yourself, so keep it light." He then told Maybourne to select six of the Marines, plus himself, to accompany them.

Considering that none of them knew exactly what they were going to find, the scientists did a remarkably good job of getting themselves ready to go on time. Only Gaul was a little late, having dithered too long on what to take with him, and then trying to convince one of the Marines to carry the extra gear he could not fit into his own pack. Peter put a stop to that and soon enough all stood ready.

Of all of them, Zelenka seemed the best prepared, wearing sturdy trekking boots and a Tyrolean hat and carrying a sort of Alpenstock in one hand. His pack might have been a family heirloom, Peter thought, but it had a hook bearing a small lantern -of the traditional oil type- and seemed as sturdy and practical as the rest of his kit. Standing next to Gaul, whose pack hung lopsided on his shoulders and from which bits of clothing and equipment seemed on the verge of escaping, Zelenka did not seem like a man who had lead a reclusive, sedentary life the last twenty years.

As they loaded into the launches to take them to shore, Teyla signalled Halling, back at their settlement, by use of a piece of polished obsidian, which she tilted to catch sunlight from the great bank of reflectors at the tunnel mouth, and reflect it up to where he waited. An answering series of flashes came a moment later and then Teyla joined them in the second launch.

"Is that some kind of a code you use?" Peter asked, fascinated by the ingenuity of the communication method.

"A simple one, yes," she answered. "All who live here know it, and I can easily teach you."

"That would be terrific," Peter said. "And I'm sure I'm not the only one who'd like to learn it. We have a code we could use with this method too, though it's somewhat more complex. It's a code for all the letters of the alphabet, so you can say anything you need... as long as you have the time."

"Your fore-bearers taught us something of your letters," Teyla said. "I studied them as a child, and would be very interested in learning this code. Perhaps we could make a trade?"

"Definitely!" Peter said with a smile as the launch touched the beach and everyone prepared to debark.

Their party of fourteen made its way up the narrow stone paths, climbing the steep walls above the subterranean sea in a series of switchbacks, until the Daedalus appeared little more than a glittering toy on the calm, dark waters below.

"That's a bloody long way down," Beckett said to Peter nervously as they came to a brief rest stop at one of the switchbacks. "I don't mind saying -I've no problem with small spaces, but I'm not so good with heights, and I hardly expected to be dealing with them here."

"We will be leaving the heights soon enough, Dr Beckett," Teyla answered him. "See? There lies our path." She pointed up and back, along the new switchback, which turned away from the precipitous edge and into a tunnel. Peter had heard the sound of a waterfall growing closer and closer as they climbed, but he could not see it at all from where they were. He understood why shortly after they entered the tunnel.

The echoing roar of the water he could hear outside now became a heart-shaking thunder and Peter realized that they must be walking directly beneath the place where the water spilled forth from the lake. The tunnel lead them down a steep set of stairs -the way lit by broad patches of the glowing moss Teyla called 'lux vivendi' and which Parrish could not stop exclaiming over. It cast sufficient light that they could find their way down the stairs without breaking their necks, but Peter felt more than grateful for the warm, yellow glow of Zelenka's little oil lamp.

The noise was deafening too, so that the company made their way down the stairs in silence, after a fashion, carefully navigating the uneven and twisting descent. Eventually the noise of the unseen torrents subsided so that conversation could take place again, but before Peter could frame a thought he heard the sound of other voices coming from up ahead.

The path they'd been following now let into a largish room, with several possible passages leading off of it, and one flickered with the light of an approaching party. The properties of the cavern distorted the voices so that Peter couldn't make out any words, but the cadences and voices were familiar to him nonetheless, and soon enough he could see Sheppard, Weir, McKay and the others enter into the room.

Halling, the tall native, was among the first to enter, and he immediately sought out Teyla to greet her by clasping her upper arms and leaning down to touch her forehead with his own. Peter watched this odd ritual as Teyla responded in kind and after a moment he realized that Dr Weir had come to stand at his side.

"It would seem to be a customary greeting among their people," she commented. "More than a handshake, but less than an embrace. It seems... quite congenial, I think."

"Indeed," Peter replied, glancing across at the expedition leader. "I trust your journey was without incident?"

"It was, and the Athosians -that's the name of their settlement- have shown us every hospitality," she said. "I trust you have been told why we are making this journey?"

"Apparently, we are being brought to see our legacy," Peter replied. "Though we have been told nothing of what this legacy is comprised -only that it is something that deifies description."

"We've been told much the same," Weir said with a smile. "But I believe we can trust our guides, and that we won't be disappointed."

"We'd better not be!" McKay grumbled from near by. "I didn't walk all this way just to see a bunch of glowy moss and pretty rocks."

Peter looked up sharply to see if any of their guides had taken offence, but they seemed not to have, and Dr Weir only smiled. Of course, Peter reflected, Elizabeth Weir was no stranger to mysterious legacies. He liked to think that he knew her as well as anyone, and not even he knew the source of her considerable wealth. It was said -and Peter knew no differently- that it derived from some legacy of her grandfather's, an explorer, the full extent of whose travels were not known to any save her.

Would it be too great a coincidence, Peter wondered, if these two legacies happened to be linked, or was it too improbable that they were not?

The room where they had all come to meet was large, but there were now nearly twenty five of them all together, and the sounds of all their voices, as those from one party greeted the others, filled the echoing spaces of the room and made them seem a much larger crowd. Teyla had to call out several times to be heard, as she attempted to get their attention.

"We are all well met," she said, "but we have not yet arrived at our destination, which lies only a short distance away. Come with me now, please, if you would see the wonders that await you."

"Well, with an invitation like that," Peter heard Major Lorne say, and he felt much the same. He, along with everyone else, followed Teyla through the larger of the four entrances to the room, and he soon found himself in a grand passage. Here the high, vaulted ceilings and the walls, rather than being rough hewn or carved naturally by flowing water, were smooth and even and, eventually, decorated.

The murals which adorned the sides of the passage were clearly narrative, and seemingly historical, with the most recent history painted in the section they traversed now. The further they went along, the older the events depicted -the anthropologist, Dr Corrigan, seemed to think, anyhow. The scenes were mainly of battles, between normal looking men and women, and strange, pale, winged apparitions with blood painted fangs, bearing what seemed to be immense nets, which they used to gather up individuals or whole families.

Great triumphs and disasters were told of here, Peter saw, as well as acts of bravery, and treachery, celebrations and tragedies. Thousands of years of life under the shadow of ravenous, winged monsters, and yet it could be seen that life went on, and the people persevered, thanks to the gift of light from the Ancient Ones.

Peter was torn -curious to pause and take a longer look at the murals, but also curious to see what it was they Teyla lead them to. Poor Corrigan had to be all but dragged, from time to time, as he desired to spend more time with one scene or another, and Peter sympathised, but also wanted very much to reach their destination. When they came to one particularly spectacular segment of mural, however, they did stop and everyone crowded around to get a better look.

Unlike all the murals they'd passed previously, this one featured writing, though mainly in the strange, modular script of the Ancient Ones, which Dr Weir had been teaching Peter to read. One word -added recently, Peter guessed by the look of it- was written in English, underneath a line of Ancient One script, which itself lay under an enormous image of a fantastical city. Its spires reached heavenward as if untroubled by gravity, and the colors used made it appear to be made of crystal and silver, resting on azure waters. It looked like something from a fairy tale, but the legend written below it, in two scripts, gave it a name from history.

"ATLANTIS," Teyla spelled out carefully, tracing the English letters with her finger. "I wrote this here with my own hand, with the letters I learned from my grandmother, who was taught them by a visitor such as yourselves."

"And this other writing?" Dr Weir asked, indication the letters of the Ancient Ones. "Are you able to read that as well?"

"Those of us who would be keepers of tales must find a tutor," Teyla replied, "and I have -a woman who lived in a settlement not too far from ours. I can read but a little now, but Charin is able to read nearly everything, and she is a good teacher."

"But no one writes it now?" Dr Weir asked. Teyla shook her head.

"What can be written can be stolen and read by our enemies," she said, "for they are able to read the Ancient One's writing as well. It is said that they are born with the knowledge."

"True genetic memories?" Dr Beckett said wonderingly. "It's been speculated upon as a possibility, but I don't believe it's ever been proven to exist in higher order beings before."

"It is said that they take the knowledge from their victims' minds as they feed from them," Teyla said darkly. "Thus we must keep important knowledge to but a few in out settlements, and we protect our knowledge keepers above all others."

"Aye, and your people are prevented from advancing as well," Beckett said, "for any technological advance your people make only amounts to putting new weapons in the hands of these monsters."

"It is as you say, Doctor," Teyla replied sadly. "But it is my hope, and the hope of our people, that your coming may bring a change to this unhappy situation. And truly, our answer lies only a few paces further -if you would but follow."

They moved forward then, but Peter saw that his were not the only pair of eyes that lingered longingly on the image of the fairy tale city on the wall. Could this truly be their legacy? Peter hardly dared to imagine that it could be real, and yet...

It really was only a few paces down the passage that they came to a closed doorway blocking any further forward progress. Although difficult to make out clearly in the combined light of the glowing moss and Zelenka's lamp, Peter thought the material they were made from seemed to be a sort of silvery blueish metal, something like pewter but, he was sure, much harder. A pair of windows were set on either side of the door, which seemed meant to open at the center, though no hinges or any other sort of mechanism was visible. The windows only looked out onto pitch darkness, as far as Peter could see.

Sheppard was already near the front of their party, and stepped forward at a look from Teyla. Glancing down at the door before him, he seemed at a loss for what to do, as the doors remained closed and unmoving.

"They await only your touch, son of the Ancient Ones," Teyla said, stepping back so that only Sheppard stood directly before the doors. Hesitantly, Sheppard lifted his hand and laid it against the smooth metal and immediately Peter had the sensation of something coming to life all around them. He could never say what it was that he felt, for no light flickered, and no sound emerged, but after a brief, breathless moment the doors stirred and then slowly slid apart.

At first, only inky darkness was visible ahead, as whatever lay beyond seemed to be free of the ubiquitous glowing moss, and the expedition stood, gazing ahead in silence. Then, a single ring of light, circling the passage that lay beyond the open door, flickered into existence, revealing the perfectly round shape and glassy surface of the way ahead. A moment later, another ring of light, a little further ahead, blinked on, then another, and another.

It gave the illusion, Peter though, of the whole passage coming into existence before his very eyes, and never had he ever beheld such an alluring invitation. Even as they watched, the way ahead continued to 'grow', following a curving course and, as the lights multiplied, they revealed more about the passage itself.

"Is that...?" The voice was Dr Weir's, but Peter couldn't see her, as she, along with Sheppard, McKay and Sumner had gradually crowded forward toward the entrance of the new passage. Peter himself found that he had stepped forward as well, if only to confirm what his eyes seemed to show him -that the surface of the passage before him was not only 'glassy' but truly transparent as glass. Not only was the tunnel transparent, but the waters of the lake -which it had to be, surrounding the tunnel- were crystal clear as well.

As far distant sections of the tunnel continued to become illuminated, they appeared visible, across the transparent lake waters and through the walls of the passage. Little by little, the tunnel lights were beginning to fill the whole lake with a pale, diffuse light and Peter found it impossible to hold himself back any further. He was not alone, and he found himself following the expedition leaders, pressed in close beside Beckett, Lorne and Zelenka as he crossed the threshold into the narrower, transparent tunnel.

No sooner had Peter set foot on the smooth surface of the new passage, however, than he heard Zelenka, close beside him, give a gasp of panic.

"Ne, ne!" he heard the man cry, trying to step back into a crowd of people who were all moving forward. "I cannot... not underwater... how can it be safe...?"

"I'm sure you needn't worry," Beckett said calmly, placing a comforting hand on the man's shoulder. "After all, if there was any real danger, d'ye think McKay'd be out there?"

Glancing back at Zelenka, Peter saw the Czech engineer's face, pale with eyes wide behind his spectacles. He seemed to take heed to Beckett's words, however, and a moment later, Peter could see him gather his resolve. His gaze narrowed, focusing forward to where McKay stood now, some yards into the tunnel, with his hands pressed against the transparent walls, gazing raptly at something in the water beyond.

Peter felt his own curiosity flare, and saw an answering spark in the engineer's eyes. It was curiosity that had brought them all this far, brave and fearful alike, and now Zelenka allowed himself to be beguiled by it once again. Together, they all stepped forward, placing their feet on a surface which, Peter reflected, might not have known a human footstep for thousands of years.

To stand, surrounded by water on all sides, was just a trifle unnerving, Peter had to admit, but wondrous as well. To his left, Peter could see the rock walls of the lake, which the tunnel seemed to skirt for some distance -hence its curving course. It was the view to the right that seemed to have captured the attention of the expedition leaders and Peter, along with Lorne, Zelenka, Beckett and the others following close behind, had to walk some distance to find an unoccupied section, where the view was unobstructed.

All he'd been able to see so far was that there was some source of light out there in the lake, bright and growing brighter, and Peter's eyes followed the lit trail of the tunnel ahead to find the source. Word failed him entirely when he finally found what he sought, though the others nearby found a few, at least.

"Saints above," he heard Beckett whisper, even as Lorne said something considerably more profane and Zelenka whispered something reverent sounding in his own tongue. Peter could only stand with his mouth open in wonder, wordless at the sight that greeted his eyes.

The last few lights were just blinking on, defining the highest towers of the vast, fairy castle -no, city, a veritable metropolis- that rested on the lake floor. The picture in the corridor had done its best to depict what they all gazed upon now, but it hadn't been able to do it justice. No mere picture could have.

"Is it real?" Peter heard someone, possible Ford, ask.

"It is not only real," Teyla's voice, rich tones suffused with quiet joy filled the passage. "It is your legacy: the Ancient city of Atlantis."

****  



	7. Chapter Six: In which a city is discovered and explored, and begins to reveal its secrets.

**Chapter 6**

**  
"Now in this island of Atlantis there existed a confederation of kings, of great and marvelous power..." **

**  
_ -Plato, Timaeus _ ** _ (another real quote!) _

 

_ ~~~~~ _

  
"Is it real?" Rodney McKay heard Ford's question with a mixture of scorn and secret guilt. Certainly he had heartily doubted the possibility that the fabled 'Lost City of the Ancient Ones' even existed, much less that they would find it. There could be no doubt on either point now, however, and if he needed reassurance, Teyla's words offered it clearly enough.

'Your Legacy' indeed, he thought, though his connection might be considered tenuous. He, after all, did not have the 'Touch of the Ancient Ones', as Sheppard did, and could not claim to have ancestors among those who had built and inhabited this place.

"We found it," Dr Weir was speaking in a hushed voice beside him, her face pressed to the transparent, curving wall of the tunnel just as his was. "I can hardly believe it."

"You'll believe it when we get there," Sheppard said, his voice tinged with excitement. "Come on!"

Rodney couldn't fault this logic, and stepped in behind Sheppard, as more and more of their party did likewise. As motivated as Sheppard was to reach the city as soon as possible, however, not even he was able to ignore the shifting panorama visible through the crystal clear lake waters. The city, growing larger by the minute, was the main focus of their attention, but not the only one.

The lake teemed with fish -small ones swimming in swirling schools, and large ones, occasionally coming to investigate the the great, glowing tube, and its occupants. An enormous eel like thing, over three yards in length, coiled close to the passage intruding into his domain, snapping its massive jaws just as Zelenka walked past, causing the Czech scientist to flinch away with a frightened cry. Recalling how nervous the man had been about water and the sea, Rodney considered how uncomfortable this part of their journey must be for him. Hopefully, Rodney thought, the city would seem less obviously submerged -in some areas, at least.

The water didn't bother Rodney so much as they idea of being enclosed in small spaces -something with which he'd had to contend on the voyage from the Athosian settlement. It had taken all the nerve he possessed to enter into the dark passage Halling had lead them into, and he could see the same barely contained panic on Zelenka's face now. Rodney slowed his pace, dropping back in the crowd till he was walking at Zelenka's side -between him and one wall of the transparent tunnel.

The ethereal quality of the place, and the astonishing visions surrounding them, left the whole company inclined to a sort of reverent silence, to which Rodney was hardly immune. As they drew closer still to the city, however, enough to see some of the functioning details, his scientific curiosity won over. It seemed the kinder thing, as well, to distract poor Zelenka from what were clearly contemplations of various sorts of watery doom, and besides, there was more than enough to see here already, for two genius minds to speculate upon.

The city seemed tantalizingly close now, as the tunnel was taking them between two great piers, into the very heart of the city. Gleaming towers rose up on either side of them, through whose windows could be seen flickering lights, electrical sparks and moving machinery. From time to time they would pass something which emitted columns of bubbles, rising steadily to the surface, gleaming like stars as they caught the lights from the city below and all around them.

"All of this... it has woken for us?" Zelenka asked, wonder overcoming his anxieties.

"It can't have been running all these thousands of years," Rodney said. "How could it have the energy? And besides, you saw the place lighting up -it's waking. Sheppard woke it up, for the first time since the Ancient Ones left."

"But what is it all doing?" Zelenka asked the question that plagued Rodney as well.

"Hopefully, it's maintaining breathable air," said Gaul, nervously.

"Of course it's got breathable air," Rodney snapped disdainfully. "Is there breathable air here? Then there'll be breathable air there."

" _I_ wonder how the lights work," Zelenka speculated. "Do you think they could be chemically engineered? Have you noticed? They give off..."

"No heat," Rodney finished for him. "I had noticed -but I hadn't thought in terms of chemical light. I bet," he continued, lifting a finger as an idea came to him. "I bet they got the idea..."

"From the glow moss, exactly," Zelenka confirmed. "Unless," he said after a moment's contemplation, "the glow moss was artificially..."

"Created _by_ the Ancient Ones," Rodney picked up immediately, having been thinking of the very same possibility. "Or altered, from another native moss, to create chemical light naturally, and spread itself over the whole cavern. Teyla, have you ever heard any legends about the Ancient Ones actually creating the... what is it you call the glowy moss?"

When Rodney turned to look at the native woman, however, he found her expression somewhat befuddled, and not so very different from that of Dr Weir, who had come to a stop beside her.

"That was weird," he heard Sheppard say into the momentary silence.

"What?" Rodney snapped, turning to glare at the pilot.

"It was like..." he replied awkwardly, "like you were sharing one giant brain there... for a second."

"It is possible," said Dr Weir, "that the universe placed you on two separate continents for a reason."

"I beg your pardon?" Teyla asked, now entirely lost.

"Do you know any stories about the lux vivendi?" Dr Weir asked, neatly restoring the topic back to something useful. Rodney exchanged a 'what-the-hell-was-that?' look with Zelenka, and then turned back to hear Teyla's answer.

"It may be that such stories exist," she said, her brow furrowed, "but if they do, I have not heard them."

"Ah, well," Rodney said, dismissing the issue with a wave of his hand. "It's probably not important. More a matter of curiosity, really."

They resumed their forward progress after that, and soon they could see the actual entrance to the city, at the far end of a long, straight length of tunnel. It seemed to take them directly into the base of a great central tower, but getting to the center of the city meant walking through the whole of the periphery. It brought home the vastness of their legacy as nothing else could have, and it made Rodney's feet hurt.

"Are we going to have to make this walk every day?" he inquired -not complaining per se, but sure that this situation ought to be pointed out.

"You will if you want to sleep in your bed at night, Dr McKay," Sumner answered him, utterly unsympathetic. Naturally.

"Well, if this was the home of the Ancient Ones," Dr Weir offered, "it stands to reason that they slept here, possibly even on beds. Somewhere in this city we're sure to find living quarters, I would imagine. Depending on the conditions there, I see no reason why we couldn't take up residence ourselves."

"Really?" asked Gaul. "Are you sure you'd actually want to sleep in there?"

Indeed, as much as he thought Gaul a bit craven, Rodney had his own well honed sense of self preservation, and it battled now with his insatiable curiosity... and natural desire to avoid unnecessary physical exertion. He was turning the question over in his mind, when he realized that everyone was coming to a halt before a massive double door.

It stood beneath a truly stunning and immense stained glass window, now lit from behind to show a gleaming and complex pattern of ethereal beauty, picked out in a range of blues and greens with a few highlights of gold. Columns constructed of a myriad of blue and white crystals flanked the doors and, as Sheppard approached, they opened before him like the Red Sea before Moses, to reveal a crystal lined corridor within.

"Oh, I dunno," Sheppard drawled, in the way he had when he really didn't want anyone to know how impressed he was. "I bet it wouldn't be so bad."

They paused to regroup a bit there, as Sumner insisted in having his Marines go in first, though Dr Weir insisted that she be among the first to step over the threshold as well. Rodney was just as pleased to see how the soldiers did first, though if no immediate peril raised its head he was keen to push ahead. Zelenka seemed very keen to be out of the transparent, water surrounded corridor as well.

Weapons drawn and looking very vigilant indeed, the soldiers stepped into the glittering vestibule. Sheppard was among the first in as well, as he kept to Weir's side, as vigilant as the other military men. It seemed, however, that their vigilance was unnecessary, for all that happened as they entered farther into the city was that the lighted crystals glowed a bit more warmly still. Wary glances soon transformed into looks of wonder, even on Sumner's face, and Rodney decided that he had waited long enough.

Zelenka followed only a second or two behind him, as did Gaul, Grodin, Beckett and the others. Teyla pushed in ahead of him, having waited out of deference, it seemed, but now just as impatient as Rodney to see the legacy she had guarded all her life. Once over the threshold, Rodney saw that the vestibule was actually more of a colonnade, and other passages and stairways could be seen beyond the crystal columns ranked on either side of them. Ahead lay another grand entrance way, which opened before them just as easily as the first, this one revealing what looked, from Rodney's vantage point, to be a large room or hall.

He hurried ahead, eager to see what he was sure must be a central hub of some sort, and he was not disappointed. The space was vast -encompassing the entire base of the tower which rose above them. Looking up, Rodney beheld a high, arching dome, decorated with a six sided pattern of a similar nature to that which they'd seen in the stained glass window at the entrance. The floor beneath his feet was also patterned -inlaid with materials he couldn't possibly guess at- echoing the designs in the ceiling above.

It was the perimeter of the room that puzzled Rodney, however, for it seemed to consist of a number of bays, each delineated with an arch that looked as if it ought to open onto an exterior, which presently was quiet impossible. Did the Ancient Ones possess submersible ships which might come and go here? Was this space meant to be filled with water? Rodney decided not to present that theory to Zelenka, but did feel the urge to seek higher ground nonetheless.

A trio of spiral staircases stood at equal distances around the perimeter, and their party split itself into three groups, without any consultation, to approach the base of each stair. Rodney found himself in a group with Weir, Beckett and Sheppard, among others, and began to follow Weir up the stairs, but then saw how Sheppard had gone to inspect a small platform situated in the center of the spiral's coil.

Before anyone could say anything, he stepped onto it, laying his hand on what appeared to be a sort of control panel, even as Rodney was shouting out, "Sheppard!" and Dr Weir called out for him to wait. It was all too late, for only a second later a thin wall of crystal seemed to leap up from the floor to surround him and then suddenly, Sheppard was ascending rapidly, on his little platform, lifted by agencies unseen and unknown.

"Woah!" Sheppard himself shouted now, attracting the attention of those in the other parts of the room. "Captain Sheppard!" cried Major Lorne, watching his fellow officer's rapid ascent. He seemed to make a split second decision then, as Rodney watched his gaze flit from Sheppard to the similar platform situated in the center of the stairway he stood by.

"Major Lorne, stand down!" Sumner ordered now, from the third staircase, but to no avail. Lorne had already stepped onto the platform, finding the control panel instantly. Before the crystal enclosure came to surround him, however, Teyla had leaped onto the platform with him, crowding close so that she was easily included. A moment later they too were lifted rapidly up to the upper levels of the tower, quickly disappearing beyond the high domed ceiling.

"Dammit!" Sumner swore, heading to the third stairway and stepping onto the platform there, but nothing happened.

"It probably requires the Touch," Dr Weir suggested, inciting another swear from Sumner, and an order.

"Miller," he said, motioning over to one of the Marines who, Rodney recalled, definitely had the Touch. "Get over here and get me up to where they went." The soldier's glance upward suggested that he wasn't at all sure about how good of an idea that was, but he had his orders, and stepped over to comply.

"Maybourne, Ford," Sumner commanded, "stay here and keep an eye out. The rest if you, go up by conventional means, quick time, and if you've got the Touch, keep your hands to yourself!"

Rodney and Dr Weir watched as Sumner and Miller crowded onto the platform and began their ascent, just as the others had, then glanced back to the long stairway in front of them. Zelenka, Beckett and Grodin had already begun climbing and Rodney gave a resigned sigh and began following them. The injustice of it, Rodney moaned silently to himself, was that he couldn't even complain, because he could hear Gaul complaining loudly to Parrish and Corrigan on an adjacent stairway, and there was no way he was going to put himself in the same category as that idiot.

Rodney hadn't been able to get a good estimation of the full height of the central tower as they'd approached, but he was sure it was ten stories if it was an inch. He supposed that climbing ten stories, or even fifteen wouldn't be such a terrible chore, except that he was also carrying a pack, which wasn't at all light. That slacker, Zelenka, had probably filled his pack with spare pairs of socks and crumpled up wads of paper, to make it _look_ like his pack was full, but there was no way he could be carrying a pack as heavy as Rodney's and be going up those stairs so fast. The man wasn't even breathing hard.

"Ye know," said Carson Beckett, following Rodney's gaze as he climbed beside him, and at least having the grace to look like it was hard work. "I bet he went mountain climbing every week. He lived up in the mountains, after all, and it's a very... European sort of habit."

"Oh please," Rodney said, between panting breaths. "He's just showing off, and his pack _can't_ be all that heavy."

"I don't know, Rodney," Carson said. "I watched him put it on, and it really seemed..." He was interrupted, mercifully, by a shout from one of the other stairways.

"Someone's coming down!" cried one of the Marines on the stairs. "It's Miller!" shouted another, and Rodney looked across to see that it was true.

"The Colonel sent me down to tell you that we're all safe, at the top of the tower," Miller called out as he descended. "They're just fancy elevators, is all... and I think I've figured out how to control it... Hang on."

He passed the group on the stairs and then his lift slowed, stopped and began to ascend again. "I think I can make it stop on the next floor so someone else can get on," he said as he passed the stair climbers once again. He slowed to a near stop just as he passed above the edge of the domed ceiling and Rodney could hear Gaul cry, "Oh thank God," as he looked up to see where Miller had presumably stopped only a little ways further up the stairs.

"Oh, so _he_ gets a free ride," Rodney groused, just as someone from further up the stairs he was on shouted out, "Hey! Sheppard sent his down for us too!"

Rodney was close enough to the ceiling himself to be able to see the underside of the lift which Sheppard had used, descending slowly to stop just a little ways beyond the ceiling. The prospect of a lift to the top of the tower was enough to put a bit more spring in Rodney's step, and he arrived at a sort of landing a short while later. The access to the lift was open, and Weir, Zelenka, Beckett and Grodin stood before it, but no one had stepped onto it yet.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Rodney said, between breaths, as he attained the landing. Grodin and Beckett exchanged uneasy looks.

"It'll require one of us who has the Touch, obviously..." Beckett began.

"Obviously," Rodney said rolling his eyes. "One of you will have to go and take me with you. Flip a coin or something, if you can't make up your minds!"

Both men looked uncomfortable for a moment, and then Grodin said, "Well, your Touch is a bit stronger than mine, Dr Beckett..." In response, Beckett only looked slightly alarmed.

"I don't know if that'll make any difference, really..." he began, but Rodney was out of patience.

"Just get on that thing and make it take me up there," Rodney said, exasperated, "so I don't have to die of heart failure before I'm able to make my greatest contributions to mankind."

So saying, Rodney propelled the reluctant physician onto the lift platform and followed close after him. There was only barely enough room for the two of them and their packs, but room enough there was, and the crystal enclosure came to surround them the moment they were both in. Beckett's hand now hovered uneasily over the control panel that appeared near the entrance.

"I'm not precisely sure what it was that the Captain did," he began, prompting another exasperated sigh from Rodney.

"He had no idea what he was doing, and neither do you," he said. "Scientifically speaking, you're almost certain to get the same results."

Tentatively, Beckett placed his hand onto the control panel and almost immediately the platform began a gentle ascent. Its speed was not constant, however, as it accelerated smoothly until they were rising at some considerable speed. Beckett looked a bit alarmed at how fast everything was flashing past, but before too long the lift began to decelerate, just as smoothly as it had sped up. Rodney could hear voices from above as they reached the top and slowed to a gentle stop.

"The tales could never do it justice," Teyla was saying. "No mere words could, not from the most skilled storyteller.

"I'm looking at it, but I'm still having trouble wrapping my brain around it," he could hear Lorne reply. "I mean... it's the Lost City of Atlantis... and I'm standing in the middle of it. This definitely isn't one of the things I thought I'd accomplish in my career."

"If they'd made me reenlist as a deck hand," Sheppard commented, "I don't think I'd care right now."

Rodney all but stumbled off the lift platform as the the transparent enclosure withdrew, his eyes everywhere but on his feet. They stood on the periphery of a large, open, hexagonal chamber, illuminated in the cool colors of the Ancient Ones' lights, both from within and without. Outside the great crystalline windows Rodney could see a vast city -lights twinkling from windows and spires- stretching away across the lake bed. Even the illuminated serpent of their access-way was visible, far below.

Within, lights lined a pair of stairways, ascending to a mezzanine level where Rodney could see glass fronted offices and meeting rooms, but also what looked like some sort of central control area, with various consoles and control panels.

"That," Rodney said, pointing the area out to Carson, who stood dazedly just behind him, still taking in the surroundings, "is something I need to look at." He headed toward the stairs without another word, single minded in his pursuit of knowledge, and only noticed that Sheppard was with him when he passed Rodney on the stairs.

"Bet you're gonna need someone with the Touch," he said with a smirk, "aren't ya?"

"Probably," he replied, too intent on his task to rise to Sheppard's bait. "Be nice to have Zelenka up here too... and Weir," he added when he saw that many of the consoles featured inscriptions in the Ancient Ones' writing.

Rodney wasn't actually paying any attention to whether anyone had been listening to his request, so was surprised to hear Sumner -just now ascending the other stairway- bark out an order. "Beckett," he said, "send that lift back down for Weir and Zelenka. Major Lorne, send yours down too. If this really is some sort of central control we need to know it, and know how to work it before we do anything else."

Rodney had the sense of orders being followed below (and wasn't it interesting how there was no demurring from Beckett when Sumner commanded it), but was far too engrossed in his examinations of the Ancient Ones' nerve center to pay it any mind. He didn't have the command of the Ancient Ones' language that Weir did, but he had enough to know that this was indeed a control room for the whole city.

Here were displays that showed city maps and schematics, and others which gave an overview of the power grid. Then there were the atmospheric and air circulation controls... water and waste management, temperature regulation... Rodney felt like he needed three brains and ten hands.

Even as he thought this, though, he heard Zelenka' voice, exclaiming in his native language, something happy and excited, and Dr Weir, sounding awed and yet entirely competent.

"Oh good," Rodney heard her say. "I was hoping we'd find this before too long. This is definitely the main control center... Dr Zelenka, how well do you read the writing of the Ancient Ones?"

Of course, Zelenka had only been privy to the very existence of the Ancient Ones for a few months, but Rodney and Weir had seen to it that he had all the help he could get, by correspondence and from Peter Grodin, to allow himself to learn the language. He'd apparently applied himself to the task with good effect, for now Rodney could hear him consulting with Weir about what each console controlled, quickly grasping what he could not work out for himself.

"Zelenka, I need you at the city wide power service controls," Rodney said now, said without preamble. "I've got the what I think is the central power hub control here... and it may be... indicating some trouble areas here..." If the Ancient Ones used the color scheme of 'red, amber and green' in the same way that he did, there were definitely trouble areas -a lot of them.

"Dr McKay," Weir said, "I think I've found some kind of information access display... It's something like a... a rear projected magic lantern on a glass window here in the console... and it shows words... texts in the Ancient Ones' writing. There seem to be... logs... technical reports... operational information... My God! There may be possibly... _libraries_ worth of information here. The knowledge stored in this device could bring about a new age for mankind!"

"Only if this city doesn't completely die in the next six hours," Rodney announced grimly. "Zelenka are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"The newly awakened city systems are all drawing a great deal of power," he replied, confirming Rodney's suspicions. "Lighting, temperature regulation, and especially atmospherics, but power input is beginning to fluctuate... Am looking to see if there is some way to eliminate some of the power use in outlying areas now."

"You can shut down lighting and temperature regulation," Rodney confirmed, "but don't mess the atmospherics. I'm pretty sure that's what's keeping the water out."

Rodney heard Zelenka mutter something that sounded like, 'dough pretzle', but probably wasn't, but he didn't run screaming from the room, which Rodney thought was to the man's credit. "Dr Weir," he said, "any information you can find on..."

"On atmospheric controls or power use reduction," she cut in promptly. "I think I may be able to find something for you... once I get the hang of their organizational systems... which seem pretty straight forward. Dr Grodin!" she called out to the man, who had evidently just arrived on the upper level. "I could use your assistance on this."

"Of course," he replied from below and Rodney looked up to see him dashing up the stairs a moment later. "How can I help?" he asked immediately.

"Welcome to the Atlantis control center," Weir said, sweeping her hand out to indicate the space. Rodney hadn't bothered to look at much of anything but the various control consoles when he first arrived, but glanced about now, as Grodin did, noticing the same thing that he seemed to.

"Are those balconies out there?" Grodin asked, staring through the windows behind them.

"If there are doors here, which could open and let the water in," Zelenka said, studiously focused on his console and not the large windows surrounding them, "I do not wish to know about it."

"Just make sure that the air pressure is maintained in the central tower," Rodney told him, "and you'll have nothing to worry about."

"Watching dropping power levels into atmospherics controls," Zelenka replied tightly, "I find these words not the least bit comforting."

"It says here," Dr Weir reported, back to reading from her console, "that you should be able to prioritize different parts of the city, so you can preserve the central tower even if other areas are lost."

"Lost?" Grodin asked. "Lost how?" Even a he spoke, Rodney saw a small portion of the city outside the window go dark and a great burst of bubbles rose from it. Everyone, Rodney realized, except for Zelenka, had seen it, for they all went a little pale and quiet, except for Zelenka who was muttering darkly in his native tongue.

"But..." Grodin said. "The balconies... why are they there, unless..."

"The city wasn't originally designed to exist under the water," Weir supplied. "And of course, according to the legend, it wasn't. It sank beneath the water, in its final days. That's what every story says."

"Do the stories say how to get it up again?" Rodney asked acidly. "Because if they didn't then we need to look somewhere else for our answers... like in this information access you were supposedly searching?"

"Information access?" Grodin asked, and Weir began to brief him on what she'd found. Rodney was just turning back to his own exploration of the main power controls when he saw Sumner mounting the stairs again to address them.

"I've sent the marines out in pairs to explore," he said. "They'll be reporting back in fifteen minutes. Anything they should know about or look for?"

"Keep them to the main tower," Rodney said. "The outer areas are in danger of losing air pressure. And unless any of them can read the Ancient Ones' writing, there's very little they'll be able to look for. Just tell them not to touch anything."

"Very well," Sumner replied. "Did I hear something about the possibility of the city coming out of the water somehow?"

"Theoretically," Rodney snapped. "We're looking to see if some way to do that actually exists. Naturally, if you or your men believe they know what a city raising control room looks like, by all means, keep an eye out for it."

"I'll be sure to pass that on," Sumner replied dryly, turning to descend the stairs again. Rodney returned to his own, considerably more critical efforts. From what he could make out, Atlantis was meant to have three... power generating devices of some sort, but two showed completely dead and the third nearly so. If they could find the generator room, it might be possible to hook up one or two of the spare steam powered generators they'd bought with them on the Daedalus, but that would barely keep them in lights, and almost certainly wouldn't be enough to keep the air pressure up, even if they only pressurized the central tower.

By his estimation, they had perhaps five hours before he would have to tell everyone to evacuate, and what a tragedy that would be -to have found this place, just getting a taste of what it had to offer, and then to have to abandon it. Rodney furrowed his brow and applied himself to the console before him once more. If he really was the smartest man in the world them he _would_ find some way to save this city. The alternative was unthinkable.

***

Lt Harry Maybourne didn't quite know what to make of Ford. He'd been told to work with the man, and so far he'd been an entirely competent agent, but something about him made Maybourne's skin crawl. He couldn't explain it.

It wasn't that the man was an ex-Confederate; Harry was too, though their respective reasons for turning their coats were different. Harry Maybourne was a clever man -clever enough, he thought, to see which way the wind was blowing for the Confederacy, and he could see the power of the industrialized North growing, whereas the genteel, agrarian South refused to change with the times. Ford, on the other hand, had some personal bone to pick with government, concerning promises made and not kept, mainly on his parents' behalf.

Harry wasn't clear on the details, but he'd learned not to bring the topic up with Ford, as his accounts of the wrongs done to him and his generally devolved into mutterings about vengeance due and who would get their comeuppance when they least expected it. He got an unwholesome sort of gleam in his eye when he went on in this light, and it gave Harry the creeps. Operationally, however, Harry had no complaints. Ford played the part of the 'eager young pup' of an officer perfectly, and was well on his way to befriending Sheppard and possibly even Weir.

This allowed Maybourne to oppose Weir openly, encouraging sentiments against her among the Marines, while Ford remained on the inside, and possibly in her confidences. This was just as their paymasters had requested, and Harry Maybourne was pleased to be working with a man who seemed, at least, to have the same professional standards that he did.

Their respective roles meant that they didn't often spend time together, which Harry was just as pleased about, but it was important to stay in contact too, and having been assigned to keep watch on the entrance to the city together was a perfect opportunity. They could be nearly one hundred percent sure that no one was watching or listening in, and they'd be able to see anyone approaching, either from the Daedalus, or from the tower above.

Caution still made Maybourne check in both directions before raising clandestine subjects with Ford aloud. "Weir give any sign of where she's keeping the Artifact, yet?" he asked, sotto voce. The young lieutenant shook his head.

"For all I know, she didn't even bring it with her," Ford replied. "She hasn't given the first sign, not even a hint."

"She must have," Harry insisted. "She withdrew it from the facility a week before our departure, and this place is obviously where she thinks it belongs. If she has it installed here, I'm betting we'll lose any chance we have of..." Maybourne broke off as he thought he heard something, looking up to see that indeed, someone was descending into the room at the base of the tower on one of the three lift platforms.

He stepped back to get a look at who it was, and saw eventually that it was Lorne, who greeted Maybourne with a salute as soon as they were on something like a level.

"Regards from Colonel Sumner," the man said. "He sent me to tell you that you're encouraged to do a little reconnaissance, as long as you stay in the central tower."

"Why's that?" Ford asked.

"McKay seems to be concerned that the city may be low on power," Lorne answered. "Some of the outlying sections are being flooded -I've seen it myself- but he says the the central tower should be safe for now."

"Should be? For now?" Maybourne said. "We're putting all our lives in his hands and this is all the assurance he offers? Why not just give the order to evacuate?"

"It's his life that's at risk too, sir," Lorne said with a shrug. "And I'd never classify McKay as a risk taker. If he thinks it's safe enough for him, I figure it's probably safe enough for us."

"Makes sense to me," Ford said with an answering shrug. "C'mon, there's a room over here I want to check out."

"Good hunting," Lorne said, climbing back onto the lift. "I'm going to have a look at some of the other levels, but I'll back back down here in about fifteen, in case you've got anything to report and don't want to make the climb -it is about ten stories."

  


"And what's so special about this room?" Maybourne asked, following Ford's lead nonetheless.

"I dunno," Ford said, pushing past a dead potted tree to step into a dimly lit corridor. "Just a feeling I guess."

Stood to reason Ford got 'feelings' in a place like this, Maybourne thought. The only feelings he got were how long this city had been dead and abandoned and how anything - _anything_ \- might have made itself a home in these dark, empty halls. He'd listened with scepticism to the native woman's description of flying 'vampires' during their earlier briefing, but now he began to wonder if this was the very sort of place such things might be found.

Closed doors to Maybourne's right and left were marked with a writing he knew to be that of the Ancient Ones, but which he could not read. It was frustrating for Harry, and more frustrating still to his paymasters, that Weir had not made her translation keys available to any but a few trusted confidants. He'd been told to learn the secrets of the Ancient Ones' language if possible, but so far there hadn't been any chance.

"Here," Ford said now, pointing to another indecipherable door label. "I think that looks important. Don't you think that looks important?"

Honestly, it looked like more of the same chicken scratch gobbledygook to Harry, but he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Sure, maybe."

More significant, possibly, was the fact that this doorway stood open, unlike all the others around them. In addition, the vestibule they stood in now -with yet more dead plants scattered around the low tables and lounges- also seemed to lend a feeling of importance to the room.

Maybe it looked stupid to go into an empty room with pistols drawn, but Maybourne figured 'better safe than sorry'. You could survive embarrassment much more readily than a bullet in the back. The room was just as dimly lit as were the rest of the corridors hereabout, and Harry figured anybody could be hiding in the shadows, and wasn't inclined to take chances.

Ford didn't say anything about the drawn weapon, but let Maybourne go in first. He stopped just inside the doorway, letting his eyes adjust to the low light, first ascertaining that the room wasn't very large -no more than small parlor. It was dominated by something in the center on a raised dais and Maybourne drew closer as he saw no sign of anything dangerous in the room.

Clearly it was something technical, with a number of what looked like control panels featuring various glowing symbols and figures and yet more words in the writing of the Ancient Ones. Ford entered as Mayborne walked around the central dais, trying to discern anything about the device's purpose, and finally came to notice the three indentations at the top and center of the console.

Upon further examination, it did seem that the control panels concerned whatever was supposed to be in those indentations, but two were entirely empty, and their respective panels showed more red lights than anything else. The third was occupied, and here the control panel showed a few lights glowing amber, as well as red. Something about the whole setup seemed vaguely familiar to Harry.

"Hey Ford," he asked. "Did they ever take you to see the facility where they were using the Artifact?"

"Nope," Ford replied. "But they showed some pictures -of the Artifact, I mean."

"Those pictures give you any idea of the size of the thing?" Maybourne asked further, cautiously peering into one of the empty indentations.

"Sure," Ford said, walking slowly around the room as he examined the additional consoles that covered the walls. "I think it's something like eight or ten inches long... maybe so wide." He gestured the size with his hands.

"Think it'd fit in one of these here holes?" Maybourne asked now, indicating the empty spots in the center of the console.

"Hey!" said Ford, sounding impressed. "You could be on to something there... And this is another one?" He pointed to the single occupied spot. "Think we could swipe that one too? Bet they'd pay us even more."

"They might," Harry said, "but I think we'd better leave that one for now. If the eggheads upstairs are right, that's all that's keeping the water out at the moment."

"Yeah, okay," Ford agreed, keeping his hands behind his back. "I guess that makes sense. If this really is where the Artifact goes, though, Weir's gonna install it here the minute she hears about it."

"Which is why we don't tell her," Maybourne said. "And we look for a way to close this door. You got any idea...?" he started to ask when he stopped. Had he heard something? Or perhaps caught some movement from out in the vestibule? He could swear there was something... Maybourne signaled Ford to silence with a gesture and crept toward the door. The game was given away a moment later, however, when one of the dead plants was suddenly knocked over, and there came a frightened squeak from among the lounges.

"Who's there?" Maybourne called and saw a flash of dark hair, wide frightened eyes and a blur of homespun, as a small figure burst out from among the tables and lounges and made a dash down a darkened corridor.

"Get him!" Harry shouted, taking off after the lad himself. Ford responded even more quickly, however (he was younger, after all) and after a brief chase collared him.

"Please, I didn't do anything!" the boy cried as Ford dragged him back to the vestibule. "I just wanted to see the city, that's all!"

"Hey, you're from the settlement, aren't you?" Ford asked the boy, dropping to one knee and taking him by the shoulder. "Teyla's friend's kid, Jinty, right?"

"Jinto," the boy corrected. "My father is Halling."

"Well hey, Jinto," Ford said with a smile meant to seem friendly. "We're not going to hurt you. We're all friends here, right?" Ford's words and tone were belied by the strength of his grip on the boy's shoulder as Jinto tried to squirm away.

"And because we're all friends," Maybourne elaborated, "and you know, friends don't eavesdrop on other friends, you should tell us what it was you heard while you were hiding out there."

"I... I wasn't hiding," the boy said. "I mean... I didn't mean to. I only heard voices, but I didn't know who it was..."

"You didn't know if we were friends," Ford finished for him. "That's okay. We understand. But you know that we're friends now, right? So you can tell us what you heard."

Ford's attempt at harmless amiability wouldn't have fooled Maybourne, and it didn't fool the boy either, who tried again to pull himself out of Ford's grasp. Maybourne could see the indents in Jinto's tunic, where Ford's fingers gripped him, sure that bruises were forming even as they spoke.

"Wh-why?" the boy stammered, utterly guileless. "Why don't you want to tell Dr Weir about this room? Why are you keeping secrets from each other? Father says its not right to tell lies or keep secrets."

"I'm sure your father means well," Maybourne said, "but it's different for us, where we come from. In the... Realms Above, grownups sometimes need to keep secrets, and that means you need to keep this secret too."

Now the boy looked confused and on the verge of tears. Great, thought Maybourne. "But... I don't want to. I... I c-can't keep a secret from my father... It's not right..." Maybourne heaved an aggravated sigh.

"Jinto," he said, "if you don't keep this secret there could be trouble -big trouble. It might mean that your people and ours couldn't be friends anymore."

"B-but..." Christ, Maybourne swore to himself, here come the waterworks. "I c-can't. I can't k-keep secrets from my f-father... It's wrong..." the boy choked, tears welling up in his wide, dark eyes.

"Hey, Jinto," Ford tried now, soft voiced and sympathetic sounding. "You're a big boy now, aren't you? You're not a baby anymore, right?" Jinto nodded, wordlessly.

"Well, when you're a big boy, sometimes you have to do hard things," Ford explained, sounding ever so reasonable. It seemed to be working, as the boy sniffled and made an effort to pull himself together.

"Getting to be a big boy sometimes means finding out, well, grownup stuff," Ford continued. "Sometimes grownup stuff can be hard to understand, and sometimes it can be a little scary... like finding out what can happen if you don't do what you're told." Ford's voice took on a slightly harder tone at this last, and now Maybourne saw him reach, almost casually, for his pistol. He drew if from his holster and held it out for the boy to see, as if it were a pretty rock or a toy.

"Now, I know you don't know what this is, so I'm going to show you," Ford said now. "What you need to understand, since you're a big boy, is that people can get hurt, or even die, when you don't do what you're told. Your father, or your friend Teyla, or even you. It can happen just like this..." And with no further warning, Ford aimed the gun on another dead plant, some ten paces distant, and fired. The sound was deafening, echoing around the empty hallway, and the plant exploded in a shower of dead leaves and splinters -the pot tipping over to lie shattered on the floor. Jinto's eyes grew wide with utter terror -the tears evidently frightened right out of him.

"Jesus Christ Almighty, Ford!" Maybourne hissed loudly. "What the hell were you thinking? Did you not consider what would happen if you hit a window?"

Maybourne could not quite parse the expression on Ford's face when he glanced up at him now, only that it was utterly and eerily tranquil and unconcerned.

"All the Realms of the Deeps are the Realms of Mother Hydra and Father Dagon," he recited calmly. "I will be protected."

Maybourne felt a profound chill run right up his spine at his associate's words, but could not think of a thing to say.

"And the boy understands now," Ford continued conversationally. "Don't you Jinto?" Jinto nodded silently as Ford reholstered his sidearm and patted the boy on the shoulder, where he'd gripped it so firmly a moment ago.

"You won't have any trouble keeping that secret now, will you?" Ford asked pleasantly as he pushed himself to his feet once again.

"No sir," Jinto said in a hushed voice, shaking his head. "I'm a big boy. I can keep a secret; you don't have to worry."

"I knew you could do it," Ford said with false heartiness, and an equally false grin. "Come on, let's take him up to the top, where Teyla and Halling are, before anyone notices that he's missing."

They could have waited for Lorne to come back down again, and carry them -or at least one or two of them- up more quickly, but Harry thought it better that Jinto stay close to them for now, and so they returned to the main room at the base of the tower and began to ascend the stairs. They'd only climbed around half the distance to the top, however, when they began to hear voices speaking.

Maybourne was able to make out the identities of the speakers before he could hear what was being said, and it seemed that whatever it was that Sheppard, Teyla, McKay and Weir were discussing had them excited, but not alarmed. As they climbed to the level from which the voices could be heard, Maybourne detected Sumner's voice and that of Weir's assistant, Grodin, as well.

The three of them left the stairway to follow the sounds to a large room just off the landing. Those whom Maybourne had heard were there, along with a couple of Marines and another of the scientists. Some were examining a few of the numerous panels and technical consoles which lined the walls, but most were standing around the object which dominated the center of the room -an immense and ornate sort of chair or throne.

"I'm telling you," Sheppard was saying to Weir and Sumner. "It _wants_ me to sit in it. Just like Teyla's crystal necklace wanted me to touch it. I can't explain it; it's just a feeling."

"Or a compulsion?" Sumner suggested sceptically.

"Maybe," Sheppard allowed. "But that doesn't necessarily make it a bad thing."

"Teyla, what do you think?" Dr Weir turned to the native woman. "Have you any idea what this chair does? Or if this... compulsion Captain Sheppard feels could lead him to harm?"

"Our tales do say that the creations of the Ancient Ones will call out to their heirs," Teyla replied. "But none of our tales speak of what might be found inside the city. None but the Ancient Ones were ever within the city, and they never revealed what it held."

"And if you felt what Sheppard is feeling now, Miss Emagen," Sumner asked, "would you sit in that chair?"

"The call is felt only by those who are the children of the Ancient Ones," Teyla answered. "Were I to feel the call, knowing that I was one such, I could be confident that my fore-bearers would never intend for any work of theirs to cause me harm."

"... _'intend'_..." Sumner said meaningfully. Teyla inclined her head to acknowledge the Colonel's point.

"Of course, good intentions may still lead to unwanted outcomes," she said. "I am not a seer, to know the future. I can only speak to what I know of the past."

"There seems little sense insisting on guarantees now, Colonel," Weir pointed out. "We had far fewer when we set out on this expedition. If Sheppard is willing..."

"Yes ma'am, I am," Sheppard confirmed.

"Then I see little point in such restraint now," Weir concluded.

Sumner drew a breath and made his decision. "Very well, Captain," he said. "You have a go."

As Sheppard moved to cautiously lower himself into the immense and ornate chair, Teyla and the others seemed to notice Maybourne and his party for the first time. "Jinto!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing...?" Then Sheppard settled into the chair, which seemed to come to life -lighting up and rotating slightly so that Sheppard was facing the outward looking windows- and then the whole city began to hum...

***

"Ježiší Mária!" cried Radek Zelenka, startled as the whole city, suddenly and without warning, broke into a basso profundo hum. In an embarrassing throwback to his childhood, Radek realized that he'd crossed himself before he even noticed what he was doing, but given the alarming situation, and the fact that no one seemed to have seen him, he let it pass. Other considerations were far more pressing. The vibrations from the deafening hum seemed to work their way into his very bones and every inch of the city, muffling the surprised and frightened cries of the other scientists and soldiers still present in the control room.

He dreaded to even glance in the direction of the windows at first, lest his last sight be of cracks forming which would momentarily let in the flood waters and end him, but he quickly saw that everyone else in the room had moved _towards_ the windows. Gathering his nerve, Radek reluctantly did likewise, coming to stand beside the botanist, Dr Parrish.

He almost stumbled as he did so, for now he felt the city shudder heavily and Radek had to catch himself with a hand against the window. For a terrifying fraction of a second he was seized by the fear that his weight would shatter the transparent material holding the waters back, but it held as solidly as any wall, and Radek schooled himself to calm. He felt the city shudder once again, but saw that all the windows still held. What a miracle of a place, he thought.

Now Parrish called his attention to a sight outside, on the lake bed. "Look," he said, pointing to where clouds of silt were rising from around the perimeter of the city. "It's moving... the whole city is moving!"

This seemed impossibly preposterous to Radek, and yet even he could see the long tube through which they entered going dark and retracting in an orderly manner. This was no accident, but a mechanism, operating as it was meant to.

"Jak je to možně?" Radek murmured, and then, for Parrish's benefit, "How is it possible?"

"You're asking me?" Parrish laughed, incredulous. "You're supposed to be the engineering genius, aren't you?"

"I am no genius," Radek said, voice hushed. "I am a... a child, an infant... This is so far beyond any of us."

"No kidding," said Parrish, and then, "Oh my God, I think... I think..."

"It's rising!" cried someone across the room -one of the Marines, possibly, Radek thought. "The city's rising!"

Radek pushed his glasses up his nose, peering intently at the distant borders of the city and trying, without hoping too much, to see sure proof that this was indeed so.

" _Je_ to možně!" he whispered fervently, lapsing into Czech again in gratitude at seeing his hopes confirmed. "Na zplatít Panbůh!"

The humming sound, mercifully began to drop back a bit now, but the city's shudders became more violent, so that Radek and the others either had to support themselves against walls and windows or sit, as Radek elected to do. They were definitely rising -Radek could feel it in his ears- but it was an open question in Radek's mind as to whether the city would shake itself apart before it reached the surface.

Parrish seemed to harbor few such doubts, for the man was grinning like a loon, but then he pointed up and Radek could not help but to grin himself. Sunlight sparkled though the mirror surface of the water above, drawing ever closer and at considerable speed. Moments later that sunlight was shining through the windows of the control room, and the Marines and scientists together burst into cheers of joy.

"Slunce!" Radek cried. "Sluníčko!" Sun, sweet sun, he thought, standing to press himself against the window fearlessly now. They continued to rise as he watched, lower towers all around them thrusting up to break the surface, water spilling like cascades from balconies and pediments. Before long even the lowest piers had achieved the surface, yet more lake water pouring off their surfaces, generating a wave emanating from the whole city perimeter.

Like a great ripple in a pond, Radek thought, cringing a bit as he saw the wave reach a small dock on the far shore, smashing it and tossing a few little boats up onto the shore. Still, he reflected, recalling the many seemingly closed bays in the walls of the room at the tower base, their way out seemed clear now. Those bays, if opened, might even be big enough for one of the Daedalus air launches to land, Radek estimated, as well as his vekly orlub.

The orlub, he considered, could probably even come to perch on the railing of any one of the many balconies that each of the towers seemed to feature, including this one. Even as he thought this, Radek saw the doors leading to a balcony just to his left open, letting in the fresh, sea scented air from outside.

"Magnificent!" Parrish said and headed toward it without hesitation. Radek followed, along with nearly everyone from the control room, but the balcony was spacious enough for all, connecting the control room with some of the other offices and conference rooms on this level. On a balcony below, which let out from the main room of the top level of the tower, Radek could see Halling, Drs Beckett and Corrigan and a few more Marines, who'd also come out to take in the view.

It was an... impressive view, Radek thought, though any words he might use to describe it fell far short. Her spires painted in the pale, filtered sunlight from the mirror array, the city of Atlantis also gleamed with lights of her own generation, so that the towers could be seen, reflecting silver and blue in the waters of the lake all around them. Below the lake, Radek could see the vast sea and the cavern which contained it, stretching away on either side, and the numerous clusters of lights, near and far, which indicated the various communities and settlements making their homes in the side passages and niches which lined the cavern walls.

Unique among all these constellations, however, lay the array of warm hued, electric and oil lights, located on the sea almost directly below them, and belonging to the Daedalus. They were close enough that Radek could even hear the cries from the deck, calling attention to the sudden appearance of the city on the surface of the lake above.

What must they be thinking? Radek wondered, and almost in the same breath, what a perfect opportunity for my orlubs, both large and small. Now that they did not have to worry about losing the city to the lake, they could begin planning their studies -having all the time they needed to wrest the city's secrets from her. Radek Zelenka rubbed his hands together in happy anticipation. Now would begin the real discovery.

***

Captain Steven Caldwell was, fortunately, already standing on the quarterdeck, looking up at the lower ramparts of the lake and the waterfall which issued from it, when the aft lookout called his attention to it.

There is something very alarming about watching a large waterfall, suddenly and without warning, increase to four times its previous volume. Even as he watched, Caldwell saw that it was only a momentary increase, but the danger of a large and sudden wave coming to strike the Daedalus as a result persisted. He called for all hands on deck to make fast anything that wasn't, then saw the wave dissipate, though it still rocked the Daedalus somewhat when it arrived.

This first crisis having been weathered, however, it left the question of what had caused it paramount, and Steven made the journey to the tops himself, spyglass in hand, to see what had disturbed the lake waters so. He should not have been incredulous to hear the aft watchman gabble on about fairy castles rising out of the lakes, he came to realize later -not given the the mission of the expedition he had signed on with.

Had he not embarked on a voyage to find the fabled lost city of Atlantis? For here it was, larger than life through the lens of his spyglass. It could be nothing but. It had even, all the evidence suggested, risen from beneath the waves -though they were freshwater waves rather than salt, he would guess.

"Well I'll be..." Steven muttered as he gazed through the glass, spotting small, moving figures standing on a balcony of the central tower. Was that one of the Marines in his dark uniform? And that gangley fellow beside him, might that not be the botanist, Parrish? Steven shook his head as he lowered his glass.

Truth be told, he had never quite been able to convince himself that they might actually find the city of Atlantis. He'd fully expected to find _something_ , and working for the SPB for as long as he had had taught him to 'expect the unexpected'. Still, finding exactly what you were looking for didn't often happen in his experience.

Caldwell was just beginning the long climb back down to the Daedalus' deck when he heard a strange, new sound, seeming to come from high up above. It was a weird, dissonant, trumpeting sort of tone, that warbled rather than keeping to a single note, and echoed all around the cavern, rather than keeping to a single point of origin. Abandoning a small measure of captainly dignity and a larger measure of safety, Caldwell scrambled and slid down the rigging to return to the deck and be ready for whatever this new alarm portended.

On the deck, every pair of eyes was raised to seek the source of the ethereal sounds -which truly did seem to be emanating from more than one location. There were quite a number of people on deck just now, as word of the city's appearance had spread. Novak had come up, along with Sister Constance, and both were now climbing to the half-deck, where Caldwell stood at the helm, and one of the scientists -the whiny one from Esoteric Affairs- was trailing after them.

"What _is_ that sound?" Sister Constance asked, shuddering as she looked up.

"Summoning Bugles," said the scientist, "unless I am very much mistaken, which I very much doubt."

"Oh, like you've ever actually heard Summoning Bugles, Kavanagh," Novak scoffed.

"Oh, but I have," said the scientist, and Caldwell saw his left eye twitch and roll ever so slightly.

"And what are 'summoning bugles'?" asked Sister Constance, edging away from Kavanagh slightly.

"It's a sort of trumpet like thing, that's written about in certain books," Novak said, quickly before Kananagh could start rambling on about the subject. "They're supposed to have the ability to call forth the Elder Gods... or their minions, and strike terror into the hearts of all who oppose them, etcetera, etcetera..."

"Do you deny that this sound is even now chilling you to your very soul?" Kavanagh asked pointedly.

"It's a bit unnerving, sure..." Novak began.

"And could _those_ be anything but servants of an Elder Being?" Kavanagh interrupted, pointing up towards the darkness of the cavern's upper reaches.

Everyone looked up now, at Kavanagh's direction and Steven saw what everyone else did. There were... things, flying in that dark expanse -pale, bat winged things, roughly the size of a man, and more and more of them were filling the vast spaces where shadows still held sway. They avoided the light, though more than a few dared the boundaries of lighted areas, particularly above the lake where the city now stood.

"They flock to see the stronghold of their ancient enemies, revealed once again," said Kavanagh in a high, strained voice. "They will have it for their own... the Great Battle begins again..."

"Will somebody shut him up?" Caldwell requested.

"Kavanagh!" Novak shouted, snapping him out of his unholy litany. "Did you forget to put on your Elder Sign this morning?"

Startled, the scientist looked down, drawing any number of talismans out from under his shirt. "What? Oh no!" he cried, evidently not finding what he was looking for. He hurried off a moment later, without another word.

"What...?" Sister Constance inquired, watching him go. "Is there something... wrong with him?"

"There's an... occupational hazard to Dr Kavanagh's field of study," Novak explained. "Getting... too close to your subject can be seriously hazardous to your sanity."

"And why was he included in the expedition?" the Sister asked, still gazing, perplexed, in the direction of the retreating scientist.

"Because he's not wrong," Steven answered, his attention still on the countless, menacing pale forms, flocking just out of range of the light. What had the native woman called them? Wraith? It was certainly handier than 'Winged Evil', but whatever they might be called, Kavanagh had them pegged. They were up in arms now that the city was risen and revealed, and that placed the members of the expedition smack in the middle of a thousands of years old conflict.

"He's not wrong about these Wraith creatures being trouble," Steven clarified. "And he's not wrong about the city's appearance putting them in a state of upset. Mr Campbell!" he called across the deck to where the sailing master was overseeing repairs.

"I want the watch doubled, as of now," he ordered. "And any ship's crew not engaged in repairs I want running a battle drill in ten minutes. We may have made ourselves an enemy of these creatures, but they won't catch us unprepared!"

"Sir, no sir!" came the reply Caldwell was just as pleased to hear from most of the crew on the deck. The Daedalus may have been a new ship, but her crew were all old hands of the SPB. Many soldiers and sailors Steven had known in his career might have found their nerve failing them at the sight of those unnatural flying monstrosities, or even at the sound of their unholy battle trumpets, but not these men -not his crew.

Steven Caldwell was as proud of his crew as he was of his ship, and knew them all to be equal to whatever test awaited them. 

 

******  



	8. Chapter Seven: In which the enemy strikes and the battle is joined!

**Chapter 7**

  
** The Star People were indeed powerful, but the greatest failing of the powerful is too often arrogance.  They thought themselves masters of the heights and presumed that they would be masters of the depths as well, but in this they were mistaken, for here lies the strength of the Elder Ones.  Here they met the Children of the Elder Ones -the Winged Ones whose Domain is the very depths of the Earth, and here they met their match. **

  
**_ -"The Tale of the Star People", from  Eldritch Tales and Lore of the Goa'uld ; compiled and edited by Dr Daniel Jackson _ **

 

~~~~~

"Jinto?!" The exclamation drew Dr Weir's attention away from the astonishing sights of the newly revealed city beyond the window, and back to the room where they had somehow caused the city to be revealed.

"Jinto, whatever in the Earth are you doing here?" Teyla cried in astonishment striding forward to claim the boy where he stood, between Lts Maybourne and Ford, looking for all the world like any boy caught exploring where he oughtn't be. "Your father will be furious!"

"I... I just... I wanted to see..." the boy stammered. Teyla gave an exasperated sigh and stepped forward to take custody of him from the two Marines.

"Oh, course you did," Teyla said, taking his hand firmly. "Major Lorne, may I ask you to take us up to the top of the tower, where Halling will be most surprised to see his son?"

"My pleasure, ma'am," Lorne said, doing his manful best to keep a straight face as he strode forward to precede Teyla and Jinto into the lift. Elizabeth could not help but smile at Jinto's look of mixed dread and anticipation as he was lead away.

"We're going all the way to the top?" she heard him ask excitedly as they boarded the lift. There was a sparkle in Ford's eyes too, she saw, as the Marine watched him go.

"Where did you find him?" she aksed.

"Wandering around the base of the tower," Maybourne answered. "He tried to run when he saw we were on to him, but I don't think he was up to anything more than trying to be the first of his friends to get a glimpse of the Ancient Ones' city."

"And I'm betting his punishment, whatever it is, is going to stand as a small price to pay for the bragging rights he's just earned," Sheppard said, standing cautiously from the Ancient Ones' 'throne'. There was a moment's silent pause as everyone waited to see if the city would sink again, with Sheppard's presence removed, but Atlantis did not stir and everyone breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

The moment was broken suddenly with the sound of a small chime which seemed to emanate from Sheppard's waistcoat pocket. Looking as startled as everyone else, Sheppard drew the watch out of his pocket and stared at it where it hung from the chain in his hand, mouth open in astonishment.

"I thought," said McKay. "I thought you said your watch was..."

"Broken," Sheppard finished. "It was. The case was dented and the crystal cracked..." He cradled the timepiece in his hand now, gently opening the back to look at the motion. In the silence of the room everyone could hear it ticking healthily.

"It's like new..." he murmured. "How is that possible?"

"How is it possible for a whole city to be raised from the bottom of a lake in no more than a minute?" Elizabeth replied. "Clearly, the science of the Ancient Ones is far beyond us... well, most of us," she amended at McKay's indignant look. "Perhaps there is something in the information display about this. Shall we return to the control room?"

"By all means," McKay said enthusiastically. "Now that we're not living in fear of imminent drowning, we can take our time and really figure out those controls. Gaul, you stay here with... ah, it's Markham, isn't it?" he pointed toward one of the two men who'd come down to the chair room with them. "And you have the Touch?"

"Yes sir," the Airman replied, glancing over to Sumner. The Marine commander nodded.

"Report to me if you go anywhere else, or if you find anything," he said. "And I'll be in the control room with Dr Weir until further notice."

Elizabeth took the lift with McKay and Sheppard, still staring with amazement at his pocket watch, and Sumner followed, with Miller to operate the lift. When they arrived at the top McKay immediately dashed up the stairs to consult with Zelenka and the two of them were thick as thieves in no time.

At the base of the stairs leading to the control level, Elizabeth found Teyla and Halling, deep in conversation as Jinto sat on the lowest stair, looking glum.

"Dr Weir," Teyla addressed her as she stepped off the lift. "Halling and I have decided that we must return with Jinto to our settlement, and as the day grows late, I fear we must go now."

"Oh, hey, Dr Weir," Elizabeth turned to see Dr Henry Corrigan coming up behind her. "Forgive me for eavesdropping, Miss Emagen, but did I hear you say that you were headed back to the settlement? I'd like to go with you, if I may?"

"You are the... anthropologist?" Teyla replied. "The scientist who studies people?"

"That's one way of describing it," Corrigan said disarmingly. "I personally think of myself as a story collector. I'm happy to trade stories too; I've got quite a lot stashed away up here." He tapped his head as he said this, and Teyla and Halling both smiled.

"You will have no trouble finding folk to trade tales with you," Halling said. "And if they're good tales, folk will come from other settlements to trade with you too."

Hearing this, Elizabeth felt herself sorely tempted. Of course, the exploration of all of Atlantis lay before her -a massive undertaking- but she could not pass up the opportunity to hear the tales that Henry Corrigan would be trading for, and to hear Harry himself, who was quite a story teller.

"Do you mind if I come along as well?" Elizabeth asked. "I'd really like a chance to see more of your settlement, and get to know more of your people. And I love hearing stories -the rest, I confess, is mainly an excuse."

Teyla laughed. "Of course, you are most welcome," she said, "though if you come now, you will need to spend the night with us. It is not safe to travel much after dark, but we have plenty of accommodations for guests. You will join us in our evening meal and many, many stories shall be told."

Filled with happy anticipation, Elizabeth checked in with her various expedition heads, and ended up leaving many of the contents of her pack with Peter Grodin. When she checked in with Sumner and Lorne, however, the party going to the Athosian settlement grew by two more more.

"I've not doubt the Athosians will be nothing but gracious hosts," Sumner said, repacking his own pack. "But I'm simply not comfortable letting two civilians go off on their own, and I'm the only Marine I can spare at the moment." Lorne raised his hand to second the sentiment.

"Of course you are welcome as well, Colonel and Major," Teyla said graciously. "Though we will now most likely need two boats to carry us from the city. I do not think this will prove difficult, as I have seen someone -Fenal, I think- out on the lake collecting the boats which were torn loose when the city rose. If we walk out to the end of the pier closest to shore I can call out to him, and he will carry us across."

"Oh good!" said Elizabeth, who had just been considering how they would not be able to leave the city in the same manner by which they'd entered it. "Have you any idea how long it will take us to get to the settlement?"

Teyla glanced toward the windows, squinting as she assessed the light. "If we start on our way now, we should arrive in the Athosian settlement in good time before the light is lost, with no need to hurry."

Elizabeth nodded, examining her own elegant timepiece, which she wore as a necklace. It showed the hour to be approaching four in the afternoon, Reykjavik time, and she figured that the sun would probably be setting in a couple of hours or so. She made a note to herself to get accurate sunrise and sunset times from Lt Campbell -as they could prove critical here.

Elizabeth bade the scientists and soldiers working in the tower farewell, and then took the lift down with Lorne and Teyla, Jinto and Corrigan crowded in with her. They arrived at the base of the tower to find the room completely changed, as the bays all around the perimeter had opened to reveal the lake and the cavern beyond.

Stackhouse ferried Halling and Sumner down a moment later, and they too paused to take in the new views. Eventually Teyla strode forward toward one of the bays, and stood at the opening, gazing out toward where the shore line -and one or two more stray boats- could be seen.

"That is the direction we wish to go," she said, pointing to where Elizabeth could see the remains of the dock. "If we proceed to the end of this pier, it will take us to where it would be only a short trip by boat to shore, and where there is a path directly to our settlement."

"Then that's the way we'll go," Elizabeth agreed. "You know, we have skilled carpenters aboard the Daedalus," she offered. "We'd be happy to contribute to the work of rebuilding your boat dock."

"I hope you do not think we blame you for this small mishap," Teyla replied with a smile. "The rising of Atlantis is a miracle, and seeing as no one was harmed, the loss of our dock is a small price to pay. We would not refuse an offer of help, however, nor a chance for our builders to learn from yours."

"And vice-versa," Elizabeth said. "I'm glad we're of a like mind, and I will see to it that one of our carpenters comes to meet with you tomorrow."

They had to return to the enclosed part of the city to get to the end of the pier, and it proved to be a long walk. Having Lorne with them, however, made their progress considerably easier, as the lights all went on everywhere he went. Eventually they came to edge of the city, to stand on the open surface of the pier, and look back at the many gleaming towers and spires of the Ancient Ones.

"I wish we had our photographic equipment," Elizabeth said. "I may have to send a team to capture this image."

"I wish I had my paints and a canvas," Lorne allowed, then blushed a little at Elizabeth's surprised look.

"It's a... useful hobby for a balloonist," he said with a shrug.

"Look!" Dr Corrigan said, pointing up at the central tower. "That's Parrish and Beckett, I think, up on the balcony, waving at us!"

Sure enough, Elizabeth thought, waving back. Jinto, Corrigan and Lorne followed suit, and it engendered a warm feeling in Elizabeth's heart. Already, we're like family, she considered. That's a very good beginning indeed.

A little while later, when the seven of them had made their way further down the pier, Teyla spotted her friend with the boats, and he happily accommodated them. The Athosians had such easy generosity, Elizabeth thought to herself, and wondered if it had to do with living under such oppression.

The thought reminded her that they, too lived under this oppression, as long as they remained in these subterranean realms, and her gaze shifted uneasily to the heights, where they'd seen so many of their enemy not so long ago. For the moment they remained in the protection of the luminous city of the Ancient Ones, but they would leave it behind after they crossed the lake. The sun's light still shone into the cavern via the mirror array, however, and Elizabeth would have to trust that this would continue to afford them protection. She, like Teyla and all those who had lived here all these countless generations, had no other choice.

***

John Sheppard wondered when he'd come to find the sound of scientists bickering to be comforting. At least, the sound of McKay and Zelenka bickering, he considered, seemed to mean that there were no immediate threatening crises, as the two men appeared to regard this type of exchange as something like a competitive sport. Grodin had been trying to take part as well, but he hadn't stood a chance and now worked quietly on his own, searching through the information on what McKay had been calling the IAD (for Information Access Display).

"I may be a weapon," Zelenka was arguing now, as he and McKay stood over one of the control stations whose purpose was currently under discussion. "But if it is, it must be purely defensive. There is no control for targeting here at all!"

"Then what do you call this?" McKay countered forcefully, pointing to something on the panel.

"Yes, it looks like targeting control, but look here," Zelenka came back immediately. "This is the symbol for... for receiving... incoming. I have only been learning this language for two months and even I know this."

"Yes, and even you know that this whole console is marked with the symbol for 'protection'," McKay replied. "How does having targeting control for receiving make any sense?"

"Do I say it makes sense?" asked Zelenka, throwing his hands up. "I do not! But I also do not claim it must be something that it cannot be!"

"For god's sake, Zelenka, it can't not be a weapon." McKay cried. "What else could it be?"

Certainly, John thought to himself, a weapon against the Wraith would be nice, though he also knew well the trap of basing your plans on wishful thinking.

"Just think, McKay, of all the things we say are for 'protection'," Zelenka responded. "Everything from armor to border guards to... prophylactics. It can include State Security departments and spy networks as well, you know, and none of these things necessarily involve weapons."

"Prophylactics?" McKay asked incredulously. Zelenka only shrugged, and Sheppard decided he'd heard enough. They weren't going to settle this any time soon, and he figured he could use a little fresh air. On the balcony he found Dr Beckett, pack open at his feet and a piece of bread in his hand.

"Care for a bit of 'afternoon tea', Captain?" he asked, indicating the rest of the loaf and a quartered apple which lay at the top of his bag.

"Don't mind if I do," John replied, taking an apple quarter. He stepped to the balcony railing and leaned there, gazing out towards the shore as he took a bite of apple. "Have you spotted our shore party yet?" he asked.

"Aye, they've just crossed the lake," Beckett said, coming to stand beside him. John looked where the doctor indicated, spotting first the broken pilings of the dock and the small boats now tied up there, then seeing the seven figures -including one very short and one very tall, which had to be Jinto and Halling.

Instinctively, John reached for the spyglass he customarily kept in his breast pocket, extended it and trained it on the distant figures. Now he could clearly see Weir, Corrigan and Sumner, as well as the Athosian father and son, and Lorne and Teyla, heads together as though sharing a secret. Sheppard lowered the glass, trying to ignore the disappointment he felt.

He was sure he'd seen things heating up between Evan and the Athosian leader, and John couldn't blame him. She was beautiful and strong -something John liked to see in a woman himself, though he knew not all men did. Evan Lorne apparently also liked those things, and if Teyla saw something she liked in Evan Lorne, well, John could understand that too, all too well.

John lowered his glass, holding back the sigh he wanted to give. He had no claim on the man, he knew, and if he were in Evan's shoes... maybe the choice wouldn't even be that hard. There'd be no sneaking around needed with Teyla, no risk to his career. Indeed, the more he thought about it the easier the choice seemed. John watched the shore party disappear as they made their way down from the lake shore and then turned away from the balcony, only to find Dr Beckett looking at him curiously.

"Are ye all right, lad?" he asked, looking concerned. "Nothing's amiss with our people is it?" John pasted on a carefree smile -or at least a close approximation- to put the doctor at ease.

"No problems," he said. "Everyone's present and accounted for. Telescope was giving me a bit of a headache," he finished, when he saw Beckett's dubious expression.

"Aye, of course," Beckett said, in a way that made John think he'd seen right through him. "D'ye think I could borrow that glass for a wee moment?"

"Sure," John answered, handing it over. "I don't think our people are in line of sight at the moment, though." Beckett nodded as he took the glass.

"It's their route I'm wanting to look over," Beckett said, lifting the glass to his eye. "There were quite a lot of those Wraith beasties flitting about only a little while ago, and if they can hide in shadows, as that Teyla lass said... I'm looking for how shadowy their path is, and if there might be any of those wretched creatures lying in wait for them."

John did not ask Beckett what he would do if he chanced to see any Wraith lying in wait for their people. It would be unkind at best, for he knew that there was nothing they'd be able to do from here -already they were out of shouting range- and John had a feeling that Beckett was a little sweet on Dr Weir, even if he was too shy to say anything about it.

"If you promise not to drop it," John said, gesturing towards the glass in Beckett's hands, "you can hang onto it for a bit. I'm going back in to check on McKay and Zelenka."

It actually kind of set John's mind at ease to know that someone was looking out after the shore party, even if he'd be powerless to help them. They'd know, at least, and that was something. Back in the control room, John listened for the sound of the two scientists' banter, and found that it had changed in tenor somewhat, and that Grodin had rejoined the discussion.

"I've found a diagram," he was saying as John entered. "It definitely shows another mirror array on the top of this tower, and you should be able to control it from here."

"So the 'incoming' targeting control..." Zelenka pronounced, just to have McKay cut in.

"...is what directs the tower array to position itself to receive the sunlight from the array at the tunnel mouth," he concluded. "Which it can probably -hopefully- redirect it to the target of our choice within the cavern..."

"If only we knew where those controls were," Zelenka finished off, stalking along behind the row of consoles, gazing intently at each.

"That would definitely be an offensive weapon though," McKay said, arms crossed as he stood behind the console they'd been examining earlier. "I mean, as far as these Wraith things are concerned, if they really are photo-phobic, as Teyla says."

"A weapon of directed sunlight," Zelenka said, gazing up to consider it. "It is quite elegant, for all that it would be useless against any other enemy."

"Yes, well there is only one enemy that merits our concern at the moment, Dr Zelenka," McKay said imperiously. "And its elegance is of far less import than its effectiveness. Dr Grodin, have you found anything in those diagrams which tell you how the array can be directed, or where they controls are?"

"Nothing yet, Dr McKay," Grodin replied with, Sheppard thought, a great deal of patience.

McKay gave a huff of annoyance and turned back to examine his console but had only been at it for a few minutes when he was interrupted by an arrival below.

"Dr McKay," shouted Gaul, just stepping off the lift with Markham. "I found what looks like some sort of targeting control in the chair room. It seemed like it might be for some sort of weapon but I can't make out what kind."

Sheppard had to suppress a laugh at the wide eyed look the two scientists in the control room gave each other, and second later they were both racing down the stairs. Sheppard strolled down in their wake, expecting to be called upon to serve in his new, vital role as elevator operator, and he was not wrong. He and Markham hung out in the chair room and listened to the three scientists call each other names while they deciphered the control panel Gaul had found, but eventually he got bored and crossed the room to check out the balcony.

This balcony looked out at a ninety degree angle from the one off the control room and so the view was a new one for Sheppard. For some length of time he was more than content to simply brace himself against the railing and gaze out over the panorama, drinking in the majestic surroundings with his eyes. The Daedalus lay below and to the left, a glittering constellation of electric lights, reflected below in the surface of the water, and above on the surface of her lift vessel. Further above and some distance to his right, he could see two or three illuminated niches in the cliffs -more settlements like the Athosians'.

Inevitably, Sheppard's thoughts and then gaze turned to the opposite side, where one of the lights was that of the Athosians, and towards the route he could not see, where the shore party now made their way. Somehow, from this angle, it seemed a much longer journey, and a fairly shadowy one at that. After a while he noticed that Markham had come to stand at his side.

"Sumner and Lorne, they can take care of anything, you know," he said confidently. "They won't let anything happen to Dr Weir or Miss Teyla."

"I get the feeling Miss Teyla can take care of herself pretty well," John said with a smile. "And she wouldn't have gone with Dr Weir and the boy if she didn't think it was safe. Halling would never endanger his son either, you can bet." That's what John was telling himself, anyhow.

"Likely you're right sir," Markham said, and settled back into silence.

The unmistakable crack of a distant pistol shot shattered that silence like nothing else could have.

John swore and turned back to stride across the chair room and head for the lift. "Captain, what...?" McKay began, seeing him suddenly tear through the room.

"Beckett's got my telescope," was all the answer he gave, then he ordered Markham to stay and keep and eye on the scientists and headed up. He heard the distant alarm bells -they could be nothing else- ring out from the vicinity of the Athosian settlement as he arrived at the top, and the sound of another pistol shot as he raced up the stairs to where Beckett had been joined by Grodin and Parrish, and a couple of Marines.

"What are you seeing?" he demanded as soon as he stepped onto the balcony, as eager to have news as he was to have his own eyes on the scene.

"There was something..." Beckett began uncertainly. "Something pale... It moved so fast, and it dropped down to the path where I was watching our people. It flew up again a second later and... bloody hell, there's another one!"

"Another one what?" asked Parrish worriedly, but John knew what they had to be.

"They're Wraith, aren't they?" he asked, hands gripping the rail so that he wouldn't snatch the telescope out of Beckett's hands. It would take him precious seconds to find the scene Beckett was viewing now -seconds in which anything could happen.

"Lord no!" Beckett cried now, though the spyglass remained steady in his hands. "It's coming up again with something... something it's carrying, hanging below it. It's got one of our people, Captain! It's getting away with them... and now there's another... Lord help us there's no end to them!"

More pistol shots could be heard echoing across the vast cavern, and more alarm bells rang out from other settlements. Peering across the distance, John could see lights moving from the Athosian settlement as well now -one of them much brighter than the others. It was McKay's mantle lantern! It had to be, John thought, and saw that it was moving along the path, toward their party, at a fair clip. But would they be fast enough?

Unexpectedly, John found the telescope being pressed into his hands, Beckett pointing out the bright beacon of the mantle lamp and explaining how to find their people from it. Following his instructions, John was able to quickly find the shore party -what remained of it- in the telescope's sights.

They were out in the open, in an area where only the slightest wash of light from the mirror array fell. It was still more light than the Wraith were comfortable with, John saw, as he watched one swoop down with terrifying speed, not quite close enough to capture anyone, and then swoop up again -unable to endure more than a few seconds in the dim light.

Another descended, a pale streak of menace, and hurled something as he swept by the tallest figure among their party -which had to be Halling. There was a confusion of figures on the path, but John could see the smallest -surely Jinto- being pulled away from his father just as that figure, entangled in the nebulous thing the wraith had thrown earlier, was lifted off the path and into the air, a second wraith coming to help the first carry his weight.

"Dammit! They got Halling!" he muttered, remembering that others on the balcony might want to know what he was seeing. "Did you see who else they got?" he asked Beckett now, glass still trained on the scene.

"I couldn't tell," the doctor replied, sounding close to tears. "Dear God what are we to do?"

"We did the best we could when we gave the Athosians one of McKay's lanterns this morning," he replied. "They're bringing it now, and it'll keep those bastards off... if they get it there in time."

Bracing his elbows on the rail to hold the glass steady, John tried as best he could to sort the figures his could see through it. No matter how hard he looked, he could not see more than four figures there now, and one of them was almost certainly Jinto. He thought he could identify Teyla, by the way she moved, and Sumner, by the white belts on his uniform, but the fourth could either be Weir or Corrigan, as the anthropologist was short of stature and dark of hair, just as Weir was.

Of Evan Lorne, there was no sign. John would know him if he spotted him, he was sure, and he strove to put aside the awful creeping chill that threatened to overcome him when he thought about it.

"It looks like..." he began reluctantly. "It looks like the party is down by maybe three. I'm pretty sure I'm seeing Sumner and Jinto and Teyla... and I'm not sure about the fourth."

"Elizabeth?" Beckett asked the naked distress in his voice echoing what John felt in his own heart for Evan.

"It might be her," John answered honestly, "but it might also be Corrigan. I can't tell; sorry Doc... Oh crap, here comes a whole bunch of them!"

They shrieked as they came -a hideous piercing sound that carried all the way to where John stood on the balcony- and the remaining members of the shore party scattered, as much as they could on the narrow path. John couldn't follow them all, and ended up keeping the scope on the unidentified person, who seemed to be sticking with Jinto. John was rapidly coming to the conclusion that it had to be Weir when another volley of gunfire sounded through the cavern and he shifted his focus to try and find the source of the sound.

For several agonizing seconds John couldn't find anything or anyone. Then something pale and winged swept past his field of view and he managed to follow it, though what he saw only filled him with dismay. Sumner's blue and white uniform was clearly visible, through the... net or something similar by which he was being lifted away from the path, just as Halling had been.

Even as he watched John heard the sound of another pistol shot and saw one of the winged figures carrying Sumner fall away, only to be replaced by another in less than a second. They flew more slowly as they lifted their burden and John was able to follow them in his glass, rising higher and higher.

"God dammit, no!" he shouted as he saw another captive being lifted along side Sumner, though he could not tell who it was. For a little while he was able to follow them both, then both became lost in the darkness of the cavern's upper reaches and John refocused his glass on the bright point that was McKay's mantle lantern and the Athosians. When he found it he also found Weir and Jinto, as the rescuers had finally caught up with them. The light of the lantern made his identification of the survivors certain.

John lowered the glass to see a handful of wraith try to swoop down again, only to swerve aside as they came to close to the light of the mantle lantern, shrieking as they went. They wheeled about in the space above for a little while, then sped off in silence. John turned to Beckett, relieved that he had at least a little good news for the man.

"The Athosians got to Dr Weir and Jinto in time," he said, giving a faint smile to answer the relief he saw on Beckett's face. "The others... It looks like everyone else was taken by the Wraith."

"Is that... it, then?" John heard Dr Parrish ask amid the other cries of dismay. "Are we giving up on them?"

The question shocked everyone into silence, but for John it made everything suddenly crystal clear, and he could have almost hugged the scientist in gratitude.

"No," he said, all the determination he felt in his heart clear in his voice. "No we aren't. I'm going back to the Daedalus to put together a rescue party -volunteers only. Anyone here with me?"

This got a predictable 'Hell yes!' from the two Marines on the balcony, and John sent them to collect all the other Marines currently exploring the tower and gather them at the tower base. He went to get McKay, only to find the man coming up the lift with Zelenka and Markham.

"What the hell was all that gunfire?" he demanded. "And what are the Athosians doing with my mantle lantern? I thought they needed it in their settlement."

"They were using it to rescue our people," John answered. "Or to try and rescue them, anyhow."

"What?" said McKay, flustered. "Try to rescue... from who?"

"The Wraith," John answered, "and to be fair, they did prevent Dr Weir and Jinto from being taken, and it was your lamp that made the difference. How many of those did you bring, anyhow?"

"Ten," he said, and then, "Wait, if Weir and Jinto were rescued... who wasn't?"

"Sumner, Lorne, Teyla, Halling and Corrigan," John said bluntly. "The wraith took them up in... they looked like some kind of nets. As far as I know they're still alive and I'm going to get them back. We're going to need your lanterns to do that."

"Yes, you are," said McKay without batting an eye, "but not the small ones. You're going to need the mobile, three lantern unit I had built for just such a situation, and you're going to need me to run it."

Sheppard blinked, taken aback by the scientist's pronouncement. "You're no soldier, McKay," he said. "How are you going to handle yourself in the middle of a fight?"

"You think I've never been in a fight before, Sheppard?" McKay said. "I'd been contending with cultists, Elder Beings and Goa'uld for three years by the time you signed on as Master's Mate on the Apollo. I can handle pistols and a coach gun -a personal favorite against cultists- and I can certainly take care of myself, and a mobile mantle lantern."

Abashed, John held up his hands in surrender. "Fair enough," he said. "You're on the team. You can join the Marines who've volunteered to take part at the base of the tower, where we'll head back to the Daedalus together."

Naturally, all seven Marines, plus Airman Markham were waiting and ready to go when Sheppard and McKay met them at the tower base. Maybourne and Sheppard had to come to a decision about who would remain to look after the scientists on Atlantis. In the end Maybourne elected to stay along with Sgt Bates and Airman Markham, and the rest went with Sheppard to the end of the pier where Teyla's friend had left them a boat.

The boat was small and canoe-like, so that several trips were required to cross, and Sheppard determined that an air launch should be sent to Atlantis as soon as he got back to the Daedalus. The air launches, he quickly realized, would be the best way to get his rescue forces to the Athosian settlement as well, even if multiple trips were necessary.

John had no idea how they would get his forces up to the levels where their people were being held, but he felt sure that there must be some way to go on foot, and that the locals would likely know it. They could use the air launches, of course, but those seemed too vulnerable, and the wraith, with their advantage of numbers, would be able to keep them from landing troops. John was sure that an attack from within would give them the benefit of surprise, and a better chance at recovering their people.

By the time they'd crossed the lake and made their way down to the sea shore, the last of the sunlight was fading from the great mirror array and watch fires were being lit in the various settlements. Warning bells and loud chants accompanied this turning point of the day, as they had in the morning, though the mood was more cautious than joyful now. Now, McKay's mantle lantern -which everyone had thought superfluous on the way to the city- proved to be critical, and Sheppard could not help smiling at the scientist's smug acceptance of the Marines' appreciation.

The Daedalus was all a-bustle when they arrived, and the big mantle chandelier hoisted and casting its brilliant light over the whole ship and its immediate surroundings. As soon as they arrived, Ford and the Marines from Atlantis went off to gear up, with Ford in charge of recruiting and organizing additional volunteers from the Daedalus. Rodney went off to unpack and assemble his large mobile mantle lantern. Sheppard had been tasked with reporting immediately to Caldwell, briefing him on how they had found the city and caused it to rise, and what had happened to the shore party.

Caldwell took the explanation about the discovery and raising of Atlantis calmly enough. He was a SPB veteran, after all, and accustomed, as much as one can be, to the occasional marvel such as this. He was less sanguine about the news that the commander of the Marines and his first mate had been taken by the wraith.

"What in God's name were they thinking?" he stormed, pacing the confines of the chart room furiously.

"Teyla thought it was safe enough," John pointed out. "And neither she nor Halling thought it too dangerous to go with the kid. Weir and Sumner made the call, and they deemed it low enough risk."

"So now we've lost two critical command personnel and a civilian," he said. "I hope you, Maybourne and Weir take a lesson from this; we need to be a lot more cautious here."

"Sir..." John began hesitantly, not wanting to raise the man's ire further, but needing him to pass on the gun crew. "I'm... not ready to count them as lost yet... and neither are a lot of the Marines... and McKay."

Caldwell gave him an incredulous stare. "Do not tell me you want to mount a rescue mission, Sheppard." John met his gaze with one of determination, and made his intentions clear.

"Are you insane? How the hell are you even going to get to where they are?" the captain demanded. "You've seen their numbers; there's not enough munitions in this whole ship to diminish their forces by more than a fraction."

"They've got a hell of a big weak spot, Sir," John came back. "And McKay's got the best weapon against them. They're used to having their way here, Sir, and they've never seen anything like McKay's lanterns -not since the Ancient Ones' time, anyhow."

Caldwell said nothing in reply at first, only glowering at John as if waiting for him to back down, and when he didn't the captain sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as sat heavily on one of the chart room stools.

"Did you even see where they were taken, Sheppard?" he asked.

"Yes I did, Sir," John replied, "I followed them in my glass when they were taken, and made note of several landmarks."

"And how do you plan to get up to wherever you saw them taken?" Caldwell asked next.

"One way we could go is by air launch," he replied, "but that has a lot of disadvantages, so I'm going to ask the Athosians about a land route. I'm willing to bet one exists, but that the wraith would never expect any hostile force to come that way."

Caldwell's look now was pensive, and he turned to gaze out the chart room window, towards the distant walls of the great cavern. "The cliffs and walls all around," he conceded slowly, "they do seem to be more or less honeycombed with passages... I was studying them through the glass much of the day."

"So..." John said hopefully. "You agree it's a good plan?"

"I agree it's not a completely suicidal plan," Caldwell said, "and now I'd like you to tell me what I'm really agreeing to."

"We, ah, that is, I... would really like a gun and crew, from the Daedalus," John ventured. "Volunteers only, of course, and only one. I figure canister shot'll punch a big hole in 'em -if they come at us in numbers- and it'll come as a really big surprise."

Caldwell frowned again, but John could see he'd get what he asked for. "Only one gun," the captain reiterated, "and the whole crew has to volunteer. You not taking one guy from one crew and other from somewhere else. These men train together and I won't have them broken up."

"Agreed, Sir," John said immediately, as the man had a point, and besides, John didn't think he'd have too hard of a time finding a gun crew who all wanted to go. Lorne was well thought of on the Daedalus, and Airmen are a particularly loyal bunch. He was about to ask permission to go and recruit his gun crew when there came a commotion from outside the map room and then the door opened abruptly and without a knock.

"Here we go." It was McKay of course, gesturing at John and Caldwell, evidently for the benefit of his sister, who came in on his heels. "Captain Caldwell and Captain Sheppard. Go ahead, ask away." He crossed his arms over his chest and stood waiting.

"Forgive the interruption, Captains," Sister Constance began after an awkward moment. "But I... I can't believe you are letting my brother go on such a dangerous mission. He's not a soldier; he's a scientist, and the rescue you're planning... surely it's far too risky for a... a man like him."

"What do you mean, 'a man like me'?" McKay burst out, before either Sheppard or Caldwell could address the nun's concerns. "What the h... heck is that supposed to mean, huh?"

"Well, it's just," Sister Constance backpedaled. "You never exactly... struck me as the military type?"

"Sister," said Caldwell, who had stood as soon as the nun had entered the room. "I don't mean to intrude into a family matter, but I am obliged to confirm that Dr McKay has, in his time with the Special Projects Bureau, been assigned to several fairly dangerous postings, and comported himself well in more than a few perilous circumstances. The current mission is a dangerous one, I will admit, but there are a number of reasons why I am afraid it must go forward, and Dr McKay has a role to play in it."

Sister Constance turned to glare fiercely at her brother. "You never told me about this, Meridith!" she said. "You told me you worked in a government lab!"

"And I did!" he said. "It's just that there was also... top secret field work."

"Captain Sheppard," she turned, imploring, to John now. "Do you really need my brother? Can't you rescue these people without him?"

With all eyes on him, Caldwell's cool and assessing, Sister Constance pleading and McKay's disapproving scowl, Sheppard felt himself put on the spot.

"Look, he said, trying for placating. "McKay's lanterns are the best weapon we have against these guys. They're the main reason I think we have a chance of succeeding -and we really can't afford to fail. It's not just that our people are facing a really horrible death; it's that when the wraith kill, they're also taking all the knowledge and memories from their victim as they drain their blood. That means that if, or when, they take Sumner, they'll know everything about the most top secret organization in the US, as well as how to escape to the upper realms."

John paused to let this sink in and saw real horror reflected in Sister Constance's eyes. He knew the nun had lived a fairly sheltered life, and that some might find his words cruel, but they were necessary, and now that she was here, she had to understand.

"I realize you didn't exactly sign up for this," he continued apologetically, "but all the rest of us did, including your brother. This has been his life for the last several years -it's not the first time his life has been in danger, and it probably won't be the last."

Having spoken his piece, John saw the expressions of those around him change. McKay was now looking fairly pleased with himself, Sister Constance looked worried and defeated, and Caldwell looked worried too... but more, it seemed for the nun's sake than anything else. He moved towards her now, gently taking her hand in his.

"I am really very sorry to have to say so," he said, "but Sheppard is right. It's a dangerous job we've all signed on for, and a necessary one. The Daedalus is my ship, and as long as she is I swear to you I will do everything in my power to keep you safe -because you didn't sign up for this, and had no way of knowing the kind of dangers we face. We'd have told you more, but as often as not we don't know what kinds of dangers we're likely to face on a given mission either. It's the nature of our job, I'm afraid."

Sister Constance looked uncertainly from the captain's large, strong hand enclosing hers, over to her brother who was trying for a conciliatory look, on top of the smug one he'd been wearing earlier.

"I am sorry I couldn't ever tell you about the dangerous things I was doing before," he said, "but I always promised myself that I wouldn't leave you alone in the world, and I always meant it. I'll do whatever I have to to come back to you Jeannie, I swear."

Sister Constance held her brother's gaze for a long moment, then relented, stepping forward to fold him into an embrace. "I know you will," she said. "I do... It's just a shock... I couldn't have imagined any of this..."

"Who could?" McKay said. "I mean, I couldn't, and I'm a genius!"

"And I've got a gun crew to round up," John put in, eager to get going and escape both McKay siblings. "If I may?"

Caldwell let him go and a short while later he was on deck, loading one of the Daedalus' sturdy little nine-pounders onto a launch, and Marines and munitions onto another. Two trips would definitely be required, but with each launch carrying its own mantle lantern, they would be essentially impervious to wraith attack, and the trip was no more than twenty minutes each way.

The Athosians, when Sheppard and the first two launch loads arrived, were utterly confounded by the notion of going into wraith territory by intent, no matter what the cause, and some were reluctant to let John stage his men and munitions in their settlement. The young hunter who seemed to have stepped into Teyla and Halling's place, Kenaan, insisted on hospitality at least.

"You must forgive my people's fears," he said. "In ten generations or more, no one has ever seen anyone return after the wraith took them. They cannot imagine it, but your imagination is not so constrained, I can see that, and perhaps our people will learn to imagine new things from you."

He was less than forthcoming on the topic of a route to the upper reaches and wraith territory, however.

"You must understand," he said when John pressed. "Knowledge such as this is much too dangerous to disseminate, lest the the wraith take someone who knows of these routes. They would then learn a way to enter into the settlements unseen. Surely you see why this cannot be allowed?"

"Then what is the use of having this information at all?" questioned Dr Weir pointedly. Kenaan could not answer her.

Weir had greeted John warmly as he arrived with the first air launches, her handshake firm, though her eyes were haunted. John's rescue plan worried her, but not enough to oppose it.

"The last thing we need is to lose any more people," she'd told him, "but if there's even a chance to get our people and theirs back, then you must try... only promise you'll be... I don't suppose 'careful' is the right word here..."

"How 'bout I promise to do my damnedest to bring all our people back, including me?" John offered and she accepted with a strained smile.

"You do that, Captain," she said earnestly. "You bring all of our people back, safe and sound."

"Yes ma'am," he said, sketching a brief salute before going to help offload the last of the munitions and return with the launches to the Daedalus. They arrived back at the settlement once again, forty minutes later with the rest of the Marines, McKay and his mobile lantern. They had their force assembled, but as yet no means to find the enemy. John hoped that seeing the full strength of the assault force would inspire someone in the know to cough up, and eventually someone did.

"Captain Sheppard?" the whispered inquiry caught John by surprise as he was heading back from 'watering a rock'.

"Jinto!" John said in surprise. "I thought you were staying with your... second cousin or something."

"I'm supposed to be, but I heard what you were doing," Jinto said, "and what you were looking for -a way up to the wraiths' reaches. I know I'm not supposed to know one, but I do, and I want to help you... You're gonna try and get my dad back, right?"

"You're da... arned right we are," John said, catching his language in front of the kid. "Come with me, and you can definitely help."

Most of the Athosians had retired behind the heavily bolted doors of their various domiciles, but Kenaan and a handful of others remained, keeping watch by the central cook fire. He did not fail to notice John returning with Jinto at his side, nor John's ordering his force to prepare to march. For one long tense moment, John thought he was going to have a fight on his hands, but then Kenaan backed down, shaking his head sadly at Jinto.

"You mother was taken two years ago, was she not?" Kenaan asked him. Jinto nodded.

"I doubt I'd act differently in your shoes," Kenaan said. "Just remember that if your father cannot be saved, you are all that's left of both their legacy, and your highest duty is to survive."

"I'll remember that too," John said. "I'll make sure he's headed back before we engage the enemy... And you'll head right back, too, won't you," John turned to exact this promise from the young Athosian. "We get to the edge of wraith country, you point the way and then you turn right around and don't stop till you get home, right?"

"I promise, Captain Sheppard," Jinto replied, as serious as a boy who's lost both his parents can be.

"Alright then," John said, stepping around with Jinto to the front of the column. "Let's get this wagon train on the road!"

It was as large a force as Sheppard had ever lead. He placed himself at the head of the column, naturally, then two of his twelve Marines, then the gun and gun crew, then four Marines followed by McKay and his mobile lantern -which rolled on a little cart not unlike the gun carriage- then the last six Marines. The path Jinto lead them along was little more than a goat track, but fortunately the wheel bases of both the cannon and the mobile lantern were just narrow enough to fit, for the most part.

Sometimes they snaked through dark, 'glow moss' lined tunnels and sometimes their path was little more than a thin gouge cut across a cliff face. They passed by a number of settlements on the way, some where folk gathered to furtively wish them good luck, and others where folk turned away, or pretended not to see them. It was a steep climb every inch of the way, and John had half expected to hear McKay complaining, except that he knew as well as anyone else how important silence was, and the man really wasn't stupid.

They stopped to pause near the entrance to a settlement that seemed deserted but probably wasn't, and John looked out over the sea cavern and realized that they were quite high up indeed -possibly nearly into wraith territory.

"This is the highest settlement," Jinto said. "They don't often talk to strangers, even among inner realms dwellers, but they're watching. That's what they do. I can point you the way from here -it's a long tunnel with only one branch- and then I'll turn back, like I promised."

John dropped down to one knee to meet the boy eye to eye. "Is it going to mean bad trouble for you, what you did for us?" he asked. Jinto shook his head.

"They'll make me do some extra chores, maybe," he said, "but if you bring my dad and Teyla back, I won't care."

"We'll do our best, Jinto," John said, "but you know I can't make any promises."

"I know," the boy replied, too serious, John thought, for his age. "But at least you're trying. No one ever even tried before."

"Don't think that's because your people are weak or cowardly, Jinto," John said earnestly. "Surviving like they have, here with the wraith, they've been braver than you know, and it's not their fault that they haven't got the technology and machines we have."

"I know," Jinto said, and John saw that he really did. "But the lights and machines you brought... it's going to change everything, now."

"I hope so," John said, standing. "I really do."

Jinto now lead him, McKay and Ford to a well hidden tunnel entrance, describing how far it went and where it let out, as far as he knew. He bid them farewell after that, copying the salute he'd seen John and the other military men make for each other. It made John really hope that he'd get to see Halling again, if only to tell him how proud he could be of his son.

The column formed up again and McKay fired up all three lamps on his mobile lantern, flooding the cavern with painfully bright light. They ducked into the tunnel as quickly as they could then, so as not to alarm the locals nor tip off the wraith, but the Marines and Airmen were clearly encouraged by the powerful lamp, and eager to see its effects on their enemy.

John was far from immune to such feelings himself, though it had been some years since he'd known the lust for violence that a soldier feels before battle. He welcomed it back now like an old friend, recalling his helpless fury at seeing Lorne and Teyla taken, and knowing himself to be far from helpless now. The wraith would pay for what they'd done -doubly so if his friends were hurt or killed. This he swore, as he lead his men forward for the final leg of their journey, by the blood of all his fallen enemies, and by the courage of all those he loved.

****

It would not be true to say that Rodney was not frightened of what lay ahead, but he had plunged head long into insanely dangerous circumstances before, and knew that the trick was to find some task or technical matter to focus on, so that he didn't become paralyzed with fear. Pushing the lantern cart over the uneven ground and making sure it remained undamaged took every bit of his attention, and the effort of the long and wretchedly steep climb extinguished any remaining anxiety his poor brain might have come up with.

Firing up the lantern, as they approached enemy territory was an additional and much appreciated distraction, as it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think about the terrifying enemy that he, and they, were about to face. Of course, he'd gone up against the goa'uld before, and hoards of cultists, and once, a nest of deep ones, but there was something deeply unsettling about the pale skinned, bat-winged creatures he'd only seen from a distance, that set his teeth on edge.

Of course, if light alone really was such an effective weapon against these creatures, then this mission was likely to be a cakewalk, but Rodney didn't believe in cakewalks. Somewhere along the line they'd run across something they didn't expect -that was nearly guaranteed- but what it would be? There was no telling.

Jinto had told them that this tunnel would gradually turn into a steep sided gully, which would follow a twisting course for some distance, then empty out of a crevasse into a larger room. This room, Jinto said, was reputed to be a well used entrance and exit, from the warren-like wraith nests into the larger cavern, but he had not gone to see for himself, and didn't know anyone who had.

It did seem to McKay now that the ceiling had been getting higher and higher, the last hundred yards or so, and just ahead it appeared to open up altogether. The quality of the light around them changed significantly, as so much of it disappeared into the inky heights, and after a moment Sheppard turned to Rodney in alarm.

"Crap, McKay," he said. "Aren't the wraith going to see that?" he demanded, pointing up at the spilled light. Rodney was already on it, however, and had the specially made, reflective top shade in his hand. Seconds later, the lamp shone upward no more, but threw additional light forward. It was in that light that they first saw the 'camp'.

It was little more than a wide spot in the path, with a heap of rags off to one side that might have served as a bed, and a scorched place against one side of the gully that indicated a fire pit. Various other personal objects were scattered here and there, but before Rodney could make out much more, the occupant jumped them.

Mainly, he jumped Sheppard, dropping on him from somewhere above the path. They both hit the ground and McKay leaped back, reaching for the coach gun he kept racked on the lantern carriage. The two Marines immediately behind Sheppard also drew and cocked their pistols, but by then the dust had more or less settled and the attacker had Sheppard pinned on his back and was holding a knife to his throat.

"Who are you?" the man said, in a voice rough with disuse. McKay thought he might be a relatively young man, though it was hard to tell, through the unkempt dreadlocks, scraggly beard and general, overall filth. He was dressed in rags and shoeless but quite fit nonetheless, and he had Sheppard at his mercy. At first no one could think of how to answer and it was Sheppard himself who finally broke the silence.

"We're, ah, on a rescue mission, actually," he said, sounding strained. "I'm Captain John Sheppard of the Atlantis Expedition, and we're here to get back our people that the wraith took a little while ago."

"You came up from the settlements?" the man cried. "That's impossible! There's no path to the settlements that way, only a dead end on a cliff."

That dead end must be the one side tunnel Jinto had warned them about, Rodney thought. It was an important warning because it just looked like a side tunnel on the way up, but going down, it seemed to be the main tunnel. The true tunnel appeared to be nothing more than a small crack on the left side and -he'd mentioned as well- it was 'guarded' by a 'mark of protection' -which Jinto had scratched into the gravel of the path for them to see. Of course, Rodney saw immediately, it was an Elder Sign. Kavanagh would be thrilled.

"It's hidden," Sheppard rasped desperately. "Be happy to show you, whenever you feel like you're done holding a knife to my throat."

"You're here to being your people back?" the man said now, as though Sheppard's earlier words had only now sunk in. Rodney thought he might be letting up on the knife just a bit, too. "How... how are you going to do that?"

"Hello!" said Rodney, pointing to his lantern. "Big shiny bright lights here! Also, firearms."

Finally, the man lifted his knife away from Sheppard's throat, though he still had him pinned, and squinted in McKay's direction. "You're going to take that into the heart of the nest?" he asked speculatively. "Do you even know where your people are?"

"Nope," said Sheppard, who'd manage to prop himself up a little on his elbows. "But I bet you do."

The stranger's focus returned to Sheppard now, serious and intent. "You don't act crazy," he said at last. "But I can't tell if you're actually just stupid or not."

Now it seemed to Rodney like maybe the guy wanted to believe in them, but still wasn't sure if it was a good idea. How long, he wondered, had the man been on his own.

"I've always thought of myself as a relatively intelligent guy," Sheppard said. "But that guy over there, he's a certified genius, so, definitely not stupid." Rodney lifted a hand to point to himself, clarifying.

"Dr Rodney McKay," he introduced himself for good measure. "Genius inventor."

Glancing back and forth between Sheppard and McKay, and the two Marines still aiming pistols at him, and the cannon, and the rest of the Marines in the column behind it, the stranger slowly stood, careful to keep his hands where they could be seen. Sheppard sat up as soon as he wasn't pinned and gestured at the Marines to stand down, which they did, albeit reluctantly.

"Ronon Dex," the man finally said, extending a hand to help Sheppard rise. He took it without hesitation, letting Ronon Dex lift him as easily as a man might pick up a cat. "I'm a warrior knife wielder from the settlement of Sateada, which is no more. And you're right, I do know where your people are -if one of them wears clothes like these here." He waved a hand in the general direction of the Marines, all of whom seemed happy to hear this news.

"He does," Sheppard answered, dusting himself off. "Do you know if he and the others are still alive, and can my men and equipment get to where they are?"

"Not sure," Ronon replied, "but they're probably still alive, since they were only taken today. Your men can get to where they are, but those wagons can't."

Sheppard nodded. "Figuring on using the cannon and lantern to set up a defensive position and cover our retreat anyhow," he said. "We were told that this passage comes out in a larger room in wraith territory; does it?"

Ronon nodded. "Yeah, and there's a good spot for your defensive position there," he said. "It's not a completely stupid plan. I'll lead you to your people, if you take me back down to the settlements when you go back."

"Deal," Sheppard said, extending his hand for a shake. Ronon Dex -a full head taller than Sheppard- stared at it in puzzlement for a moment, then hesitantly extended his own hand. Sheppard took it and gave it a single firm shake.

"It's how we seal a deal, where we come from," he said. Ronon nodded slowly.

"Okay," he said and then, "Where do you come from?" Wordlessly, Rodney pointed straight up.

Ronon's eyebrows lifted incredulously, but Sheppard confirmed Rodney's assertion with a nod that left Ronon shaking his head.

"How long you been stuck up here?" Sheppard asked conversationally as the column got going again.

"I've seen seven Longest Days since the wraith came and exterminated my settlement," Ronon said. "My people, we knew a secret way to make knives that could cut the fibers in a wraith's net. We didn't even let other settlements know; thought we could get by, just having this protection for ourselves, thought it would be less risk to ourselves if we kept it a secret..." He shook his head in dismay.

"They found out anyway?" asked Ford, who'd come to the front of the column to hear Ronon's story.

"Yeah," Ronon confirmed. "Wraith must've taken someone who knew about us, what we could do. They didn't dare let that knowledge survive, so they came during the night, took everyone they could, and whatever and whoever was left, they buried by pulling down the roof over the settlement. Can't even tell it was there now... from up here at least."

"Man, that's harsh," Ford said, sounding oddly admiring.

"There are some who would have you believe that the wraith are just masters," Ronon said darkly. "And that their proper place is that of Lords of all the Realms Below... and the Realms Above, if they could."

"And that's another reason we can't let the wraith have our people," Sheppard said. "They could learn from them how we came here, and how we plan to get back."

"Yeah, you definitely don't want that," Ronon concurred, then he slowed and gestured everyone to silence. Rodney lowered the gas on the lantern and watched with everyone else as their new ally stalked a little way ahead on the path, then returned a moment later.

"They're going to be able to see some of the light from that thing once you get past that bend," he said, "and a lot of it once you round the one after that. I don't suppose there's any way you can shut it off?"

"I can, but it'll take me a couple of minutes to get it lit again," Rodney said. "If I'd had any idea we'd be using it as a weapon I might have devised blackout shades for it, but seeing as I didn't..."

"Don't sweat it, McKay," John said. "We'll work around it. Here's what I've been thinking about..."

The plan John devised, which Ronon seemed to approve of, involved having Rodney and half the Marines stay back behind the first bend, while Sheppard, Ronon, the cannon and the other half of the Marines, would set up a surprise attack. As soon as the firing started, Rodney and the second batch of Marines would come forward. Under cover of light -an expression Sheppard found slightly bizarre- some of the Marines would climb up into the rocks above and cover the cannon with their muskets. They would also be covering the group of Marines, lead by Ronon and Sheppard, who would be heading into the nest to find their people.

Rodney had no objection to staying back with Ford and the gun crew, though he had no illusions that he would be safe. He held the coach gun firmly in both hands as he waited, knowing it would take a minute or two for the gun crew to get to the end of the tunnel, and another minute or two for the cannon to be set up and loaded. He tried to distract himself from his anxieties, and his dry mouth, and sweaty palms, and the slightly queasy feeling in his stomach, by reciting Pi to as many places as he could in his head. He gotten to the fiftieth, or thereabouts, when the cannon went off.

"Forward!" shouted Ford, and Rodney, the Marines, and the lantern (pulled by two Marines) did just that, double time. A hideous screeching sound reverberated through the whole cavern in the wake of the cannon shot, nearly drowning out the ensuing rattle of musket fire, but Rodney heard it and knew that things were still going as planned. Rounding the second curve in the path, Rodney saw the mantle lantern's light flood into a sizable side cavern... which was seething with wraith.

More than a few were down, having evidently succumbed to the pellets from the cannon's canister shot. Others ran, leaping and bounding over the uneven surface of the cavern, trying to reach the cannon's position, and still more filled the air. Rodney's heart nearly failed him at the sight, but then the light from his lantern filled the room and the effect on the wraith was astonishing.

Those closest actually burst into flames when the light fell upon them; others could be seen blackening and smoking. As a single entity, nearly, all the wraith flying and climbing at the edges of the light shrank back, and the screeching sound became impossibly louder. Next time they tried this, Rodney swore, he was bringing ear plugs.

The cannon roared again, and Rodney and four Marines brought the lantern around front, to a spot from which nearly the whole side cavern could be illuminated. Rodney turned the gas to maximum and removed the shades, so that it was nearly painful to his eyes to be near it, then crouched beside it and held his gun at the ready. Once again, the cavern was rocked by the sound of cannon fire and the wraith pulled even further back.

"It's this way, Sheppard," Ronon called now, and that was the cue for Sheppard and his small force to make their way across the cavern and into the nest. They'd gotten about half way when, out of nowhere, the first boulder was dropped. It had been rolled down the steep walls of the cavern from high above, and went hurtling past Rodney's shoulder at a frightful speed, striking the cavern floor rather closer than Rodney cared for.

"Holy crap!" Rodney yelped, leaping up from where he'd been crouched. They're dropping rocks on us!" The words were no sooner out of his mouth when another boulder fell, landing just in front of the cannon. It wasn't big enough to destroy the gun, but it might have knocked it off its trucks, and it could easily have killed a man.

"You men up on the rocks!" Ford called. "Look sharp above! Target the enemy loosing rocks, and sing out if you see one coming!"

A scattered volley of musket fire quickly followed, and a moment later another rock... and a wraith, came down a few yards to Rodney's left.

"Heads up!" called a voice from above. Rodney didn't bother to thank him.

Then there were another couple of musket shots, followed by a human scream and now the rock that fell was followed by a Marine. A volley of curses not issued from the gun crew and Marines on the ground. Rodney understood their frustration. The cannon cleared the way ahead of them most effectively, but was utterly defenceless from above. Rodney's situation was only slightly better. His lantern threw as much light upward as it did out, but the wraith could move easily though the honeycombed crevasses above, out of reach of the lantern's deadly light.

Even as he thought this Rodney heard a loud, alarmed shout from above. "Incoming! Lantern crew, clear out! Now!!"

Rodney did not stop to question, or to see for himself. He leaped away, taking care only that he wasn't running toward the edge of the side cavern, which dropped away precipitously into the upper reaches of the main cavern. He had not moved a moment too soon, as Rodney turned back to see a boulder the size of a small wood stove dropped squarely onto the mantle lantern and its cart -containing the pressurized fuel tank.

The resulting fireball was impressive, if horrific, and it was made more so when some of the burning fuel splashed onto one of the gunners who hadn't gotten far enough away. Half his body burning furiously, the man screamed and ran, arms flailing, and hurled himself mindlessly off the edge of the cavern. He continued to scream as he fell, and it was some time before sound was abruptly cut off. Rodney was very nearly very ill.

He steadied himself, making his way shakily back to where the gun crew was helping another of their member who'd gotten only a little burning fuel on him. The area all around where the boulder had struck still burned brightly, giving the crew a bit of cover still, but it wouldn't last much longer. One of the Marines stepped in to take the missing gunner's place as the cannon fired again at the newly emboldened wraith approaching once more.

Rodney stood at their flank and fired his coach gun at a few approaching wraith, but felt no triumph of pleasure when his targets screamed and writhed away. They were screwed, and Sheppard and his crew, who'd depended on Rodney's lamp to given them a safe haven to retreat to, were doubly screwed.

Rodney reloaded and fired again, realizing that he only had the rounds in his pocket, as he'd kept his extra ammunition in the lantern cart. The cannon fired, again, as did the Marines' muskets all around him, but the wraith were advancing now, and there were hundreds and hundreds of them -more arriving every second.

Oh hell yes, Rodney thought, reloading his gun with shaking hands. They were all completely screwed.

***


	9. Chapter Eight: In which there are rescues, more rescues, and further revelations, both troubling and touching.

**Chapter 8**

**  
"The word 'resilient' is often used in describing the people of the Realms Below, but this author is of the opinion that the word falls far short.  There is no word in the English language, nor in any of the eight others known to this author, which is remotely sufficient to describe the bravery, loyalty and steadfastness of these people." **

_**   
Lives of Darkness, Hearts of Light: the Peoples and Histories of the Realms Below -by Dr Henry Corrigan ** _

 

~~~~~

 

  


Evan Lorne had been a prisoner of war before, but he wasn't sure that having been a prisoner, even of the Confederacy, could possibly prepare him for this. For one thing, he'd never in his life been in darkness so absolute, for so long. Not that he knew how long it had been, for the lack of light seemed to disable his sense of time as well.

Shortly after they had arrived, Teyla and Halling had begun to sing, quietly, which Lorne supposed might help one keep track of time, if one knew the songs. They tended to be long, with repeating choruses, and after a bit Dr Corrigan began to join in where he could. Lorne thought about it, but couldn't seem to make himself do it.

He and Sumner had begun (once they'd disentangled themselves from the sticky, silk-like fibres of the nets in which they'd been caught) by exploring the perimeters of their prison cell, determining it to be no more than a few yards square. Three sides -though 'sides' was hardly an exact description- were of rough-hewn stone, and the fourth was composed of the same iron strong net material which had been used to capture them. A small hole near the rear of the enclosure betrayed its purpose by the smell emanating from it, and it was much too small to admit a human in any case.

The 'floor' wasn't particularly even either, being as rough-hewn as the walls, but neither Lorne nor Sumner could bring themselves to sit. Instead they risked turned ankles and other injuries by pacing, back and forth in front of the net enclosure, trying it repeatedly, like caged beasts. Lorne disliked his helpless restiveness almost as much as he hated his captivity, but could do nothing about either situation. In the end it was Teyla who could.

She caught at him, as he passed her on one of his countless crossings, shortly after they had concluded a song. "Major," she called, and then, "Evan!" when he tried to pull away. That arrested him, and he stopped, turning toward the sound of her voice.

"You do yourself no good this way," she said. "Will you sit if I tell you a tale?"

Something within Evan pulled to be moving again, but Teyla's voice was like an anchor. He let it hold him in place. "Okay," he said shakily, following her guidance to a flat spot on which to settle himself.

"No doubt it seems strange to you," Teyla said, lifting her voice just enough so that Sumner, who Evan thought was standing somewhere by the webbed opening, could also hear, "that we live our lives knowing that death can come from above for any of us, at any time, with little or no warning. Perhaps you wonder how any people could exist, let along thrive under such conditions, and yet ours have, and we are all grateful for the lives that we have."

"Your people very wise, Miss Teyla," Sumner said, out of the dark, but not from where Evan thought he was.

"About some things, perhaps," Teyla replied graciously. "And of course, individuals among our people can be just as wise or foolish as in yours, but we do hold one piece of wisdom to be most precious, and it is this that gives us strength in the most difficult of times."

"Well ma'am," Evan found himself admitting. "I'm not ashamed to say, I could use a few words of strength right about now."

"There is no need for shame, Evan," Teyla said gently, somehow finding his hand with hers in the dark. "And it is a simple but powerful thing: There will always be things and conditions in our lives over which we have no control -sometimes nearly everything, it seems. This is when we must remember that there is one thing, one place where we have all the control, and in the end, it is the only thing that matters. When we live within our hearts, we dwell in the place where no one else will ever control us, no one can ever oppress us or imprison us.

"Find you heart, Evan Lorne, and rejoice in it. It matters not how falls the world all about you, for here is the place..."

"I die free..." Evan spoke the words he heard in his memory, of an old warrior who'd fought his whole life against the Elder Gods and their servants, the Goa'uld. He'd been enlisted by the SPB for one of Evan's first missions with them, and he'd spoken of how he was able to face the horrors of such creatures without fear. Evan felt Teyla's hand squeeze his in encouragement.

"You have found this place," she said, the smile Evan could not see evident in her voice. He nodded, then realized she couldn't see it and squeezed her hand back. Evan had asked for words of strength and for a wonder, she had actually had them. Remembering the old Goa'uld hunter's calm helped Evan find his, and it was only just in time, for it was then that they heard the wraith approaching.

It was a hideous, chittering sound they made as they came, making Evan think of bats, skating right at the edge of what his ears were able to hear. It made even one wraith sound like dozens, and when there were actually hundreds... Evan could not help thinking that being exposed to such sounds for more than a few hours might well drive a man mad.

The sense Evan had of movement and the dry rustling of leathery wings immediately in front of their enclosure suggested several dozen stood there now. He could not be sure that the webbing had been removed from the opening, but then it seemed that the wraith were there, in among them, and Even could not make himself even try to push past them, so repulsed was he by their very presence.

"Who among you are sun dwellers?" one of the wraith asked, in a voice like sandpaper on a chalkboard. Evan thought he heard Corrigan whimpering slightly, but other than that no one said a word.

"It matters not," said another, gravel shrieky voice. "We will taste them all until we know them all." And then Evan heard Henry Corrigan scream.

The scuffling sound of a struggle went with it, and then there came Sumner's voice, desperate but still commanding.

"If you're taking anyone, you're taking me," he said. "I'm the one you want, not him. I'm their leader." The struggling stopped, though now there was the sound of several people breathing hard and Corrigan whimpering quietly.

"Sir, no!" Lorne said in spite of himself. It was futile on every level and yet Lorne could not keep silent.

"Stand down, Airman," Sumner said and a rusting murmur ran though the wraith crowded around them.

"Taste him," Evan heard them saying, like a chant. "Know him. Taste him; know him..." He was torn between revulsion and fury as he heard Sumner give a choked cry, and then he began to scream.

It was all the more horrible for being completely invisible. Evan could not stop himself imagining what horrors the expedition's military leader was undergoing, as his screams began to sound wet and choked. Evan began to feel a scream of his own gathering at the back of his throat, and struggled to maintain his self possession, when the first glimmerings of blue-green light began to appear in the distance. 

At first he was convinced that he was finally losing his mind altogether, but the light continued to grow closer... and then the deafening report of musket fire echoed through the corridor and Evan knew he wasn't imagining it. He was still inclined to count it as a hallucination when he first heard Sheppard's voice calling his name, but then it was calling Teyla's, Sumner's and Corrigan's name too and Evan had to believe the impossible.

The wraith began to shriek at the flash and sound of musket fire, and more still as the light grew brighter. He could see the wraith gathered before their cell tearing off in all directions, save for a little knot right before them where three or four wraith had hold of Sumner. His uniform was rent in several places, and his blood looked black in the cool light. There to be seemed quite a lot of it.

Too much blood, Evan was afraid, for Sumner to survive, but he still seemed to be struggling, albeit weakly, against his captors... or rather, murderers.

It was then that Evan realized that, aside from the handful of wraith feasting on Sumner, the corridor was empty. Evan rushed forward, heedless of the danger, to at least try and tear the abominations draining the life out of Sumner away from him, but was repulsed with shocking ease. One creature had barely looked up from where it was feeding to grab Lorne by the arm and fling him away with casual ease. He hit the wall of the corridor hard and lay there, stunned for a moment, trying to wrap his head around how strong the thing had been.

"Stay back!" came Sheppard's voice again, followed by musket fire and one of the wraith on Sumner shrieked and flinched... but did not give way. Instead, Sumner screamed again, his body spasming in agony. Then the source of the light finally appeared before their cell, and all the wraith and Sumner screamed together.

It appeared to be something like a large sail, or sheet, which must have been entirely impregnated with the glow moss. Then Evan got a sense of its shape and realized that it was actually a large cloak, extended widely to either side of the man wearing it, to encompass a number of other people. One of them, Evan was relieved beyond words to see, was clearly John Sheppard.

In the light of the glowing cloak, a tableau of violence and horror was now revealed. Four wraith were both supporting and feeding from Colonel Sumner, one from his throat, one from his groin and one from each armpit -the locations of the major arteries, Evan realized sickeningly. All were clearly suffering some pain from the light, hissing and cringing in agony, but they would not give up their prize. Evidently they had not yet taken the information they were seeking, and were loathe to relinquish their captive until they had, no matter the cost.

Evan would swear to his dying day that _something_ passed between Sheppard and Sumner in that moment -at least he hoped so, otherwise what Sheppard did next, in front of him and a number of Marines, would have been shocking. Evan saw him raise his musket now and take aim. The range was close enough for any competent marksman to hit his target, and Sheppard was more than competent.

The flash of the musket fire was blinding, and its roar deafening, and when Evan's vision cleared he saw Sumner, slumped and lifeless in the wraith's arms, the darkening mark of a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. He heard the wraith shrieking out their fury as his hearing returned, then it was rendered useless again as a volley of musket fire followed, aimed at the remaining wraith.

There was a cloud of blue smoke in the corridor when the guns fell silent, and it made ascertaining the number of dead wraith on the corridor floor difficult. Evan thought he saw all four, but he was never able to be sure. There was no time to take a more careful count, however, as Sheppard was shouting, urging them all to come with him, and none of them were inclined to balk. Someone shoved a pistol into Evan's hand and he took it gratefully, standing ready while Sheppard reloaded and then moving forward, ready to deal out death to any in his way.

***

Even as he kept himself in the moment, moving forward in the smoke filled, shriek filled, wraith filled corridor, John Sheppard was busy -desperately busy- building a brick and mortar wall around the memory of intentionally shooting Colonel Sumner in the head. There was no refuting the reasons he'd done it, but there was no refuting the screaming wrongness of taking aim at his commanding officer in a shadowed tunnel filled with horrific enemies, either. It made for a jangling dissonance in his brain that was going to drive him crazier than Kavanagh if he didn't shut it away for good, but fortunately, John was pretty good at shutting unwanted memories, and feelings, away.

Being in the middle of a desperate fight for his -and his friends'- lives helped a lot, and knowing Evan Lorne and the others were alive helped too. Thinking he might be within shouting distance of the safe-haven of McKay's lantern and the protective force of the canon was also a real mood lifter, but then they stepped out of the tunnel and John realized that he'd gotten his hopes up too soon.

The blazing light of the mantle lantern he'd hope for was no longer present, though a fire blazed away in the place where it had been, throwing some light into the cavern. By that light John could see numerous wraith gathered at the edge of the light, surrounding the gun and it's crew. Had the lantern exploded? Was McKay alright? John put these urgent questions aside in favor of even more urgent ones. How were they going to cross the cavern now? Ronon's 'magic moss cloak' -as John had come to think of it in his own mind- would not cover all of them, and they would be too vulnerable crossing the open spaces of the cavern.

Perhaps, he considered, they could make their way along the back of the cavern, keeping to the cover of the broken scree at the foot of the wall. It would be slower going, but they might manage to cover some distance before they were noticed. He turned to Ronon to run the idea past him, and then ended up having to introduce Ronon and explain what had gone wrong to their their four rescuees.

"Sounds like as good a plan as any," Lorne said eventually, "but how are we going to avoid notice with the giant glow blanket there?"

"Not a problem," Ronon said with a grin, folding and rolling the cloak in such a way that its light was entirely hidden. "I like surprising them with it," he said as he tucked the neatly rolled garment/weapon under his arm for quick deployment.

"Nice," said Lorne as they prepared to move out.\

John wished he could have contacted the gun crew to have them give him a little cover, but there was no way they could do that without giving themselves away to the wraith. Fortunately, they did fire a few rounds shortly after John and his rescue party had left the cover of the tunnel, and he was glad of the distraction it provided. As he drew closer he saw that a handful of Marines remained deployed in the rocks above where the canon was situated, and some of them had taken fuel soaked rags -evidently from the destroyed mantle lantern- to burn on the rocks near their positions, giving them a little cover of light.

One of them seemed to spot Sheppard and the approaching party, and John saw him clamber down to another of the snipers, passing the information on, but keeping it quiet. Then all that secrecy came to nothing as two of the men in the rocks shouted out to them suddenly, "Sir, Captain Sheppard! Look out! Heads up!"

John did look up, and saw the dim impression of something or things large and hurtling downwards toward him, and then someone -Lorne of course- was tackling him, pushing him out of the way. Looking back John saw Lorne, prone on the rocks near him, then he looked up and saw not one or two boulders, but a whole section of the cavern wall, broken lose and coming down. He shouted, saw Lorne struggling to rise and get out of the way, and then rocks were falling everywhere, pummeling him and everyone at the back of the cavern.

The shouts and screams of his men would surely attract the wraith, John thought, struggling to rise, to get his bruised body to move and help the others. A moment later there was a bloom of light off to his right and so that was Ronon and his cloak, providing protection for Teyla, Halling and Corrigan -John could see their faces and the shapes of a few of the Marines gathering near by. John took heart at that, finding his pistol to assure his own protection, then turning back to look for Lorne.

He cried out in dismay when he did find him, unmoving and half buried under the rocks. "Evan!" he shouted and then when there was no response, he called for help. Astonishingly, help came, from several quarters. The Marines under the semi protection of Ronon's cloak came first, working with speed to free Lorne from the rocks, and then John heard the canon roar, and the answering scream of injured and dying wraith. Sniper fire could be heard from the rocks above as well, and John watched as the wraith advancing on them fell, not only from his pistol, but from those unseen defenders as well.

It took less time than John would have imagined to get Lorne out from under the rocks, and it seemed that Ronon was prepared to carry him, but by then, in spite of all their efforts, they were completely surrounded by wraith. There were no end to them, John thought in dismay. _’No matter how many we kill...’_ He remembered Caldwell's warning and felt his heart sink. The cannon fired again, but could not hold at bay John's sense of foreboding. He didn't see any way out.

He heard the wraith scream again, and wondered at it, as the cannon had not fired. Perhaps it was a cry of imminent victory, John thought... but it didn't sound like one, and it seemed to be rising in pitch and volume… 

The light, when it began to cross into the cavern, seemed eerie and weird at first, seeming to come from nowhere, though it did have the desired effect on the wraith. Like the vermin they were, the wraith recoiled en mass from the advent of this new, mysterious light source, fleeing into the shadows at the back of the cavern and into the dark tunnels of their nest. John exchanged a brief, bewildered look with Ronon, then motioned his people forward, not inclined to look this gift horse in the mouth. The light also allowed John to do a quick head count as they made their way toward the cannon's position, and found to his relief that only Lorne appeared to have been caught in the rock fall.

He felt greater relief still as he drew near enough to their goal that he could see both McKay and Ford still holding down their defensive position by the cannon, though the gun crew appeared to be down by one. John called out to the Marines up in the rocks as he and his rescue party came in, bringing them in too so they could all go home.

"Report, Ford," he said to his second once that order was given. "Short version."

"Yes sir," Ford replied promply. "Wraith started dropping rocks on us about the time you and your team cleared the cavern. Got McKay's lantern pretty quick and Gunner Collins was a casualty. Rocks took out a couple of our snipers too, Green and Johnston, I think, but I'm not sure."

John nodded. It could have been much worse, and his people had done good. "McKay," he said turning to the soot smudged scientist, who was presently gazing out towards the source of the light which had come just in time to save their asses. "Any idea where that's coming from?"

"It's Atlantis," he said, voice strangely flat. "Zelenka must have figured out how to operate the city's mirror arrays... but what is he using for a light source...?"

"Frankly, I don't care if he's lighting his farts," John said. "All I care is that it's in friendly hands and that we can count on it to stay with us while we beat a hasty retreat. Ford, you Adams and Ronon take point. Civilians -that includes you, McKay- close after, then the Marines and the gun. I'll take Hawkes' place." 

Evans, the Marine who'd been doing that job frowned, but moved to follow his orders and soon enough they were all ready to march, the cannon and a few chosen Marines covering their retreat. All but the two Marines Ford had named had returned from their perches among the rocks and Halling had volunteered to carry Lorne, leaving Ronon free to fight if needed. That turned out to be a very good thing.

Their march back began slowly, as a handful of wraith awaited them in the shadows of the narrow gully before they'd gone more than a few dozen yards. A couple were felled by musket fire almost immediately, but then John got his first close up look at the wraith's most dangerous weapon -their nets.

When their companions fell, the wraith who remained blocking their path leaped into the air -to flee, John thought, but that turned out not to be their plan. Instead, they swooped over the party and then, without warning, one of them ejected a mass of sticky, white netting which engulfed one of the Marines in the middle of the column and snatched him up into the air before anyone could react.

John told himself that he had hopes the Marine might fall where he could be recovered as he raised his musket to shoot, but the wraith was climbing straight up when he was finally hit, and he dropped his burden high above the cavern floor. The soldier had screamed as he'd been taken, and screamed louder as he fell, then was abruptly silenced. It was a cleaner death than he'd have gotten at the hands of the wraith, John told himself, and urged the column forward.

Another wraith swooped in low only a few moments later, but the men were somewhat prepared now, and Ronon even more so. The next net that fell only partially entangled the Marine it had been aimed at, and those on either side of him grabbed hold, so as to make him too heavy to lift. Several men tried to cut the strands with their bayonets, to no avail, until Ronon stepped into their midst, wielding a knife that that seemed to cut through the wraith netting like butter. So that was the secret his people had been killed for, John reflected, seeing the importance of it at last.

Ronon got a lot of congratulatory slaps on the back from the Marines after that, and any doubts John had had about Ronon getting along evaporated. They had a routine then, and so the next several net attacks by the wraith met with similar lack of success. John and the gun crew had plenty to keep them busy as well, though it was easy to make sure the wraith never got too close behind them... that was until they ran out of ammunition.

"Double time!" John shouted to Ford and the men at the front of the column. "We got nothing left to shoot!"

"Tunnel's right up ahead," Ronon called back from the front of the column. "Looks clear so far, too."

That was good news for a change, John thought, looking up to see where the upper walls of the crevasse above them were closing in. The only light here was the faint bleed over from the light shining into the side cavern, and up ahead there was none at all. There was just enough light, though, for John to spot the thing he was looking for, that he had not bothered to look for on the way in -the Elder Sign, which Jinto had called the Sign of Protection.

Here it was carved into a hand sized stone disk and propped in a niche over the entrance area of the tunnel. It would likely discourage a wraith from idle exploration, but not if they were on a trail, chasing after the escaped 'Sun Dwellers'. Someone would need to stay here and make sure that no wraith who chased them this far lived to tell their fellows.

John couldn't imagine asking anyone else to do that so, when they stopped briefly to move the cannon into the center of the column before they entered the tunnel, he went up to tell Ford that he would have command of the party until John rejoined them. It never occurred to him that Ford might have an objection.

"Don't you think you should let me do that, Sir?" he asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world and not bordering on insubordination. John was definitely not expecting Teyla to back him up, either, but it was she who spoke up next.

"Please, John," she implored. "I know what it is to be a leader, and what a leader must do, but sometimes a leader must also let his people protect him, and you must not forget that your Touch is stronger than any other's. Your life is too important to too many people, to risk it less than wisely."

John felt sandbagged, but could not deny the truth of her words, nor Ford's simple willingness to take the duty himself. John couldn't even say that he would do the job any better than Ford, and that meant that he did not have one leg to stand on.

"Fine," he said, trying not to sound sullen, and not to feel humiliated, and not really succeeding in either case. "Ford, you've got the job. Head back in an hour, if no wraith are in sight by then, or if you lose the light, and don't be a hero. Your damned life is important too."

"Yes, sir," Ford said, trotting to the back of the column.

"Thank you, John," said Teyla, touching him gratefully on the arm. She hesitated a moment, then spoke again.

"I did not think it right to tell you earlier, lest it seem... an unfair means of suasion... but Evan has wakened, somewhat, and has asked after you."

John found Lorne, woozy but awake, lying propped up against the side of the cannon. He gave a pained smile at John's approach, and John crouched down beside him to get a closer look. Evan had a nasty gash over his left eye, a swollen and purpling left wrist, and breathed as if his ribs hurt, but there was a spark along with the pain in his eyes and John felt something wrapped tightly around his heart let go.

"I just got given a big fat lecture about not endangering my life foolishly," John said, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm gonna have Teyla give it to you as soon as you get your ribs taped."

"Fair enough," Evan said, and then, more quietly, "I'm glad she's looking out for you."

John blinked, not sure what to make of that, and unable to process it amidst all the other present concerns. The chiefest of these, at the moment, was getting his forces moving again, before more wraith showed up. He saw Ford stationed at the end of the tunnel then took his place in the front, next to Ronon who'd gotten his cloak out. That was a mercy because without it, they'd have been hard pressed to find the hidden side tunnel that lead to the true way down.

It was the Elder Sign that provided the vital clue, and it was Teyla who spotted it. John had told everyone at the front to look for it, and her eyes proved to be the keenest. From this angle the opening looked so narrow that it seemed impossible for a full grown man to have passed through it, much less a cannon, but it revealed itself upon close approach, and one by one they all slipped through.

Now, presuming Ford was successful, they were safe, and the wraith none the wiser about the existence of the passage. John did not speak the words aloud, but held them like hope, close to his heart, as the surviving members of the rescue party and those they had rescued made their way along the last leg of their journey back down to the settlements.

***

Evan had been more than a little mortified to realized that he was being carried in Halling's arms when he woke, but when he thought about it he realized that he ought to be grateful to be waking at all, and so put it out of his mind. That wasn't difficult because mostly what was in his mind was how much he ached, in every part of his body. When he finally begged to be put down, it was more because standing up made it easier to breath (with slightly less pain) than lying in the tall Athosian's arms.

Walking was no joy either; his right knee and ankle were wrenched and his hip bruised badly so that he limped heavily, but seeing John whole and well, and hearing that Teyla was reminding him not to do stupidly heroic things, made it all bearable. Besides, if he hadn't been hurting so much, Lorne would have had to pinch himself repeatedly, just to make himself believe that he'd been rescued -that they'd all been rescued.

Seeing the nagging worry and relief on John's face when he'd come to check on Evan reminded him of the risks John had been willing to take on his behalf previously. It made Evan a little ashamed that he hadn't had more faith in the man, but the current circumstances were a bit extraordinary -even more extraordinary than his rescue from Andersonville. Certainly neither of the Athosians had expected any rescue, and as he glanced over at Teyla and Halling from time to time, they both looked just as astonished.

The full reality of it didn't entirely sink in for any of them until they'd come out the other end of that long, dark tunnel, to find themselves once again in the open space of the large cavern, neatly lit paths at their feet and the faint glimmerings of settlement watch fires everywhere. Teyla seemed nearly in shock, her eyes wide as she took in their surroundings, and bright with tears.

Halling had his own shock, as the party came to a halt near a settlement that stood a short way from the tunnel entrance, when a small figure came running from within the settlement, calling out joyfully to his father before he hurled himself into the tall man's arms. Lorne spotted more than a few Marines surreptitiously wiping their eyes as Halling wept openly into his son's shoulder and held him tight.

The rest of the journey passed in a haze, his attention increasingly taken up by his various aches and pains. Evan refused to be carried again, and so for the latter part of the voyage was supported between Teyla and John... and nearly carried anyhow, for all of that. He was hardly aware of where he was when he finally found himself being guided into a glow moss lit room and laid on a mercifully soft bed, but was forced to conclude that it must be somewhere safe because of all the lights.

Still, when John left his side and made as if to go, Evan felt a sudden wave of anxiety -over what he couldn't say- and reached for him, desperate to keep him near. John hesitated then, throwing a bewildered glance first at Evan, then Teyla.

"There is no reason you should not stay here as well, John," she said. "We'll all be sleeping on the floor in any case. I'll go and get our bedding, and you may stay here with Evan."

She left then and John remained, standing in the middle of the room and looking slightly dazed. He crossed back to where Evan lay, then ever so slowly lowered himself to the floor beside him. He bit back a little groan as his body relaxed, and it dawned on Evan that John had very possibly been on his feet continuously since before Evan had been taken -how ever long ago that was. Close up, and illuminated in the low but clear light of the glow moss wall decorations, John's face revealed the fatigue he'd likely been hiding for hours.

"I, ah, I don't think I've gotten around to saying thanks yet," Evan said after a while. "Which seems kind of... insufficient..." Evan trailed off, groping for any word that expressed just how insufficient it was and failing.

Sheppard let his eyes drift shut, head coming to rest against the wall at his back. One hand twitched in a vaguely dismissive manner and he was silent for a moment longer.

"I figured," he said eventually, "I mean, it seemed to me like you'd have preferred a little... privacy with Teyla."

Evan had been beginning to drift a bit himself. One of the Athosians -a healer, Teyla had said- had given him a cup of tea which she said would ease his pain, and it was doing that most effectively. John's words, however, had his thoughts jangling into wakefulness again.

There could be no question of what John was implying... on one level, but did that mean that he no longer felt what he'd... implied in the Daedalus' hold earlier in the voyage? Was he 'throwing' Evan at Teyla as a consolation, or was he giving up on them, because he'd never really convinced himself that he was 'worthy' of Evan? He might have been traumatised and drug addled, but Evan Lorne knew John Sheppard well enough to know that the answer was far more likely to be the latter.

Stirring himself was still uncomfortable, special tea or no, but Evan shifted his uninjured right hand (fortunately the one nearer John) to John's shoulder, and squeezed it, as firmly as he could manage.

"You're such an idiot." he said, figuring this to be the best way to get the better part of what he felt out with as few words as possible. It seemed to have struck its mark as John turned to face him slowly, eyelids opening just enough to reveal a sliver of dark pupil.

"I'll take that under advisement," he replied, letting his head drift towards Evan's shoulder, letting his lips caress there, ever so briefly.

When Teyla returned with the bedding a few moments later, she found John sitting on the floor next to Evan's bed, his head resting on Evan's shoulder, and both of them sound asleep.

***

Rodney McKay had seen murder done before. Hell, he'd seen human sacrifices, witnessed men compelled to cut out their own hearts by the monstrous gods they served... but he'd never seen a man fall to his death while burning alive, because of a failure of one of his own works.

The unofficial motto of the SPB was 'Wonders one day, horrors the next' and Rodney had seen his share of both, but the horrors were never supposed to come from his actions. Only yesterday the idea had been unthinkable, but today he had the image of that poor bastard gunner, burning and screaming and throwing himself off that cliff running over and over in his mind, and it was going to drive him stark, staring insane if he couldn't make it stop soon.

Try as he might, all the long journey back he could not find even a shred of the joy he ought to have felt at his continued survival. He couldn't even manage to feel relief. Rodney had been vaguely aware of Sheppard and Teyla looking at him oddly once or twice during the trip back, but he hardly expected them to care. They'd actually been of any use in this operation, whereas he had been a complete failure. Who cares what the failure is feeling? Rodney certainly never had in the past.

"Dr McKay, are you all right?" Halling asked politely after he had shown him a place on someone's floor where he could sleep for a bit in the Athosian settlement. It was probably no more than some sort of obligatory 'guest-host' thing, of the sort that Corrigan and his ilk were always going on about, and McKay only wanted to let both of them off the hook as expediently as possible.

"I'm fine," he said. "I wasn't sucked on or netted or crushed under any rocks, so you're free to spend time with someone who was actually hurt or, you know, actually did anything useful..."

Halling hesitated at the door, the look that crossed his face seemed very much like actual concern. "My son tells me," he began a little hesitantly, "that your contribution to our rescue was fairly vital. It seems unlikely that he was much mistaken."

Being that it was probably one of those afore mentioned 'guest-host' things, Rodney concluded that out and out rudeness here would only lead to trouble for everyone, and so he restrained his first several impulses and settled for, "Well, I'm sure it did seem that way at the outset."

Halling's answering look was long and thoughtful where Rodney had been hoping for short and dismissive, but he nodded a moment later and only said, "I imagine sleep would be best for you, for now. We will speak again when you wake."

Rodney had nodded, grateful for the dismissal at any rate, and curled up in his blankets, hoping for the sleep Halling had advised. Naturally, it was a forlorn hope. With his eyes closed the image of the burning, falling gunner, whose name he didn't even know, was all he saw, again and again. Staring at the walls was infinitely better, even if that meant that sleep was not to be his.

Taking the 'sour grapes' approach, Rodney supposed that he was just as happy not to suffer the nightmares that were certainly waiting for him in sleep, but his aching fatigue made it hard to convince himself. It won over in the end, though not without a fight, and when Rodney woke it felt as if the fight had gone on in his brain while he slept. From the worried expression on Dr Weir's face when she woke him, it looked that way to her too.

"If you'd rather go on sleeping," she said, "of course you may, but I thought you'd like to know that Caldwell sent a launch with coffee and bacon, and the Athosians have prepared a fairly extensive breakfast for us as well."

The question of whether he would benefit from further sleep today was an open one, Rodney considered, but coffee trumped everything, and there was bacon on top of that.

"Thanks," he said, scrubbing his hands over his face as he pushed himself up from the bedding. "Coffee is definitely what's needed now."

The Athosian settlement was busy with folk going about their daily business when Rodney arrived at the common dinning area, where breakfast was being served. The day's first light had come to the cavern a few hours ago but the rescue party had been allowed to sleep, out of both hospitality and gratitude. Most were up now, either lined up for the coffee being poured at the cook fire, or sitting at the long tables nursing it while they waited for full wakefulness to come.

Rodney got his cup filled and would have preferred to savor it in solitude, but soon found his unoccupied corner of the table occupied by Sheppard. At first Rodney assumed that the man had come to annoy him or, worse, try and cheer him up, but after Sheppard made no more comment than a brief greeting, Rodney realised that he too had come for solitude.

With that realization, their mutual solitude suddenly became companionable. When the cooks called out that the first batch of bacon was ready, Sheppard got up and fetched a serving for both of them, and later, when they were serving those Athosian mushroom pancakes, Rodney went and got some for both he and John. Rodney had never before considered the possibility that being solitary might not mean being lonely, and the thought gave him considerable and unexpected comfort.

"We lost five guys," Sheppard said after they'd each finished two servings of bacon, three mushroom pancakes and three cups of coffee. "Green, Johnston, Hawkes, Collins and Colonel Sumner."

Suddenly, Rodney knew why Sheppard had been seeking solitude. "Collins..." he said. "He was the gunner?"

"Collins was the gunner," Sheppard recited the names as they had very likely been circulating through his mind all night. "Green and Johnston were taken out with rocks while they were covering the cannon, Hawkes was taken while we were retreating back to the tunnel and Sumner... the wraith were feeding on him and I shot him."

Rodney was not a genius for nothing, and he knew exactly why Sheppard had done what he'd done, though he also knew that not everyone would see it so clearly. "Well, you had to, didn't you?" Rodney said.

"Did I?" Sheppard replied and Jesus, Rodney thought, how could the man not be sure? They'd both heard what Teyla had told them -the wraith would know everything he did if they'd been allowed to feed on Colonel Sumner.

"Did...? Are you nuts?" Rodney spluttered. "Have you thought about the kind of damage control we'd be contemplating right now if you hadn't? We'd be talking about either turning tail and running right now, or possibly even scuttling the Daedalus. Then there's what we'd be telling the government -and the rest of the world- if the wraith did get out."

"Yeah, okay, there is that," Sheppard said into his coffee cup. "But all that's hypothetical. There's nothing hypothetical about the fact that I shot my superior officer and the military leader of the expedition."

"And what does Weir say?" Rodney asked.

"Same as you, more or less," Sheppard answered, though he didn't seem comforted by the fact.

"At least there was an actual reason Sumner had to die," Rodney said after a moment. "Collins... Collins died for nothing... except my incompetence."

Sheppard's gaze snapped up from his coffee as he gave Rodney a narrow eyed glare. "What the hell are you talking about, McKay?" he asked.

"The wraith didn't kill Collins," Rodney replied forcefully. "He died when my stupid lantern proved more deadly to our people than it was to the wraith. That's what I'm talking about!" Sheppard stared at him, brow furrowed.

"I thought the wraith dropped a rock on it," he said.

"They did," Rodney answered.

"And what, you're counting that as some sort of 'design flaw'?" Sheppard asked.

Rodney blinked, somewhat derailed by Sheppard's apparent obtuseness. He floundered for a moment, then was reprieved from any further need to explain himself by Dr Weir's arrival.

"Good morning gentlemen," she greeted them, finding herself a seat at their table. "Any thought on your plans for the day?"

Now Rodney looked down into his coffee, chagrined to realized that he'd been too busy freaking out about his role in the rescue to do his job as chief scientist. Fortunately Sheppard had an answer for her first.

"Ford's already coordinating getting the gun, its crew and the Marines back to the Daedalus." he said. "Most of the Marines will probably end up being stationed on the city, but that will have to be Maybourne's call. He's ranking officer now.

"As for me, I'd just as soon head back to Atlantis for now, and see if they've found anything else there they need me to operate or, you know, sit on."

Dr Weir nodded as she took all this in, then turned to Rodney. "What about you, Dr McKay," she asked.

"I'll definitely need to head back to Atlantis as well," he said, having reached this conclusion as Sheppard spoke. "I need to talk to Zelenka about what he did, to start with, and see what else he's discovered while I was, um, away." Busy bungling rescue operations and setting innocent gunners on fire, he thought but did not say.

"I imagine I'll want to set up some quarters on the city as well," he continued. "So I will have to go back to the Daedalus at some point to get my things and some of my equipment."

"Yeah, me too," said Sheppard. "Oh hey, McKay, you wanna go on another ride in that orloob thing of Zelenla's?"

"Why in God's name would I want that?" Rodney replied, alarmed.

"Fastest way to get from the Daedalus back to Atlantis," Sheppard said with a grin. "I figured I'd station the thing there, to have it available to get people back and forth from Atlantis to anywhere else. I was planning on training Lorne to fly it too... as soon as he's fit for it, of course."

"How is Major Lorne?" Rodney asked.

"The Athosian healer who looked at him last night said he'd mend," Dr Weir answered, "and Dr Beckett came in on one of the launches a little while ago, and is looking at him now. You know, you should have him give you some ointment or something for that burn on your wrist, Dr McKay."

Blinking, Rodney looked down at the wide patch of blistered skin at the edge of his left sleeve, which was also somewhat singed. He wasn't sure how it was possible that he was only now noticing how much it hurt, and strangely, it only added to his feelings of incompetence.

"It's nothing," he said, fighting the urge to conceal the injury. "There was one of the gunners, he had a lot more serious burns than this."

"Airman Carruthers," Dr Weir said, nodding. "Beckett's already treated him, though he mentioned that the ointment the Athosians gave him last night seems to have really helped, and he'd like to know what's in it. But seriously, Rodney, you need to let Dr Beckett look at that."

"Let Dr Beckett take a look at what?" said the man himself, strolling up to the table where they sat.

"McKay picked up a burn on his arm last night," Sheppard said, "and doesn't seem to think it's worth your attention."

"Aye, well," Beckett said, in that bossy voice that Rodney knew and loathed, as he sat beside him. "I'll be the judge of that. Let's have a look."

Rodney offered up his arm with a resigned sigh, then a wince. Beckett clucked.

"Rodney, this isn't like you," he said. "You've third degree burns here and if you'd said anything last night the healer here would have put some of that amazing salve on it. It's worked wonders on Carruthers."

"Oh yes, because I've always been so keen on letting backwards savages give me medical treatments in the past," Rodney muttered acidly. "Ow! Not that you're much better."

Beckett only chuckled as he spread some sort of ointment on Rodney's burn and bandaged it. "Well," he said, "perhaps you'll be more satisfied with some of the devices we've found in the city. Peter and I located what we believe might have been the infirmary, and when I think about how much these discoveries could advance human medical knowledge... It boggles the mind, it does."

"You gonna set up shop there, Doc?" Sheppard asked. Beckett nodded.

"Peter's going back to the Daedalus to get a few things of his own, and I've given him a list of the supplies I'll need to operate on Atlantis," he replied. "I'll need an orderly or two as well, but I suppose I'll need to discuss that with Caldwell, as it'll be someone from his crew."

Having finished their breakfasts, the four of them made their way to where Lt Markham was waiting with one of the air launches. Teyla and Corrigan were there chatting with him, and explaining how they would not be returning to Atlantis today, but that all the expedition members and crew of the Daedalus were invited to a celebratory dinner in the Athosian settlement that evening.

"And I promise you, there will be a great many stories told around the fire, when the feasting is done," Teyla said to Dr Weir. The expedition leader grinned like a child who'd been told she could have an extra dessert.

"Of course, I was going to come anyway," she laughed. "But now I'll be distracted all day with impatience!"

"I'm sure the city of the Ancient Ones will offer plenty of its own distractions," Teyla replied, and Rodney hoped she was right. Never in his life had he wished for distraction more than he did now.

The air launch trip back to Atlantis was quick and delightfully scenic, though Rodney was still too lost in his thoughts and recent memories to take much pleasure in it. The open bays at the base of the tower were indeed just big enough for the air launch to fit in, and Maybourne was there to meet them when they came in. He was not the only one.

"Dr. McKay!" The cry came in the familiarly accented voice as its owner leaped out of the lift in which he had come down, along with Grodin, and ran toward the launch.

"Diky Bohu!" he cried. "I cannot tell you how relieved I am to see you are unharmed. When I saw the explosion from the lantern up in the wraith nest... I feared the worst!"

"Ah..." Rodney could not bring himself to meet Zelenka's eyes. "You, ah, you saw that, did you?"

"Saw it?" Zelenka said. "We could never have targeted the light weapon properly if we had not."

"What?" Rodney said, looking up sharply. "What are you talking about?"

"When Peter and I finally figured out how to focus and calibrate light weapon," Zelenka explained excitely, "we looked for light from your lantern, naturally, but it was at such a distance, we could not be sure if we were seeing you or particularly bright patch of the moss. The explosion was quite atypical for moss, and when we saw the burning man fall, I... we feared very much that it was you, but we knew for certain that this was where our people were fighting, and we were able to aim the light there."

"And just in time too," Sheppard said. "You really saved our bacon there, Doc; no joke."

"The man who fell was from the gun crew," Rodney said quietly. "His name was Collins. Another one of the gun crew was pretty badly burned too."

"I see you did not entirely escape injury yourself," Zelenka said, carefully reaching forward to touch Rodney's arm.

"It's no big deal," Rodney said, drawing back, because really, it wasn't, especially when other people had gotten really hurt. Sheppard and Zelenka exchanged looks, which only made Rodney more uneasy.

"Hey, Doc," Sheppard asked Zelenka. "When you used that 'light weapon', what did you use for a light source? None of us could figure it out?"

"Oh that," Zelenka replied with a grin. "McKay, you will like this; you rescued yourself. It was your mantle chandelier on the Daedalus that we used for the light source. The light transmission apparatus keeps the light focused from its source, and so the chandelier provided more than enough light for our purposes."

"Way to go McKay!" Sheppard said, slapping Rodney vigorously on the back.

Rodney staggered a bit, then glanced between Sheppard and Zelenka and realized that he had reputation to maintain.

"Well, of course," he said, "all my best innovations can be expected to have multiple applications. Still, that was a fine piece of adaptive thinking, Zelenka."

"Why thank you, Dr McKay," Zelenka said with slightly overstated cordiality. Rodney harumphed sceptically.

"Yes, yes, now that we've finished patting each other on the back," he said, "how about actually getting some work done. Zelenka, you can start by showing my what sort of hair brained jury rigging was required to get this 'light weapon' to work."

As it turned out, Rodney came to learn, very little had to be jury rigged, and really nothing about it was hair brained -not that he was inclined to mention any of this to Zelenka. The better part of the work had been translating the control interface, for which they had Grodin to thank, leaving Zelenka to quite competently put two and two together and come up with a functioning focused light projector. That he'd managed to get it up and running at just the right time and place Rodney figured had to be a matter of luck, but he shuddered to think what would have happened if Zelenka hadn't been so 'lucky'.

After Zelenka had run him through the operation of the light projector, he took Rodney down to where several of the scientists had begun to claim quarters. One of the towers nearest the central one held a number of what seemed to be comfortably sized 'efficiency' type suites on the lower five floors, and Rodney claimed one for himself, on the same stretch of corridor with Zelenka, Beckett and Weir.

The infirmary area that Beckett claimed to have found was on the sixth and seventh floor of the same tower, which seemed somewhat inconvenient to Rodney, until Zelenka explained that Grodin had found out about some possibility that the lifts could be made to work for everyone. He was evidently working on that now, with some help from Sheppard, while Gaul was in the control room running down the power system and Parrish was tagging along with Bates on his patrol, cataloguing the dead plants.

Rodney distributed the various belongings he'd carried with him from the Daedalus in his new quarters while Zelenka hung about underfoot and asked nosey questions. When Rodney had finished with his room Zelenka suggested that they go look at some areas the Marines had described as being possibly well suited for labs or machine shops. They tramped over to yet another tower to find the first, and found it wanting, then headed over to the next, which looked more promising.

Rodney wanted to look at the third suggested site before making a final decision, and Zelenka agreed, but proposed that they have lunch first. Then he remembered to tell Rodney that the Daedalus had sent over a mess crew as well and that they were setting up a dining hall on the third floor of the main tower.

"Now you're telling me this?" Rodney griped. "We could have had coffee!" Zelenka feigned contriteness, badly.

"I beg your forgiveness, Dr McKay," he said, "but in fairness, we've all had a lot on our plates the last twenty four hours."

"A lot on your plates and not enough in your cup," Rodney quipped as they got in line for lunch. It was a cold lunch they were serving today, but they promised to have something for heating and cooking food in operation tomorrow.

"And tonight we will have a feast of the finest Athosian cuisine, ano?" Zelenka said with anticipation as he and Rodney carried their cold meat and hard tack to an open table.

Ah yes, Rodney thought. The feast in celebration of the rescue, in which Rodney had been nearly completely useless -worse than useless if you counted Collins' death as even partially his fault. Everyone would be expecting him to be there to brag about his accomplishments, but while it could be correctly said that Rodney McKay was an arrogant man, he was not a fraud. He would not (unlike that charlatan, Edison) take credit for things he hadn't done, nor would he shirk responsibility for his own actions.

Thinking about it summoned the image of the falling, burning gunner again, and Rodney winced inwardly, struggling not to gag on the food in his mouth. It had been all very fine keeping himself busy on the city, but Collins' ghost continued to haunt him, the moment his thoughts fell idle.

"Mm," he said noncommittally, mouth full of food.

Zelenka looked at him oddly, his gaze growing distant as though lost in thought. Then he changed the topic and asked Rodney a question about the lab spaces they'd been scouting, and Rodney felt something embarrassingly grateful and fond swell briefly in his heart. There was, thankfully, no need to dwell on this unexpected feeling, as there was quite a lot to take up his thoughts concerning the new work spaces, and how personnel and equipment would be transferred, and many other things besides.

After lunch Rodney and Zelenka looked over the third proposed lab and work area and found it even worse than the first, but then Sgt Bates and Cpl Abernathy showed up with a fourth possible location. Rodney complained manfully about having to cross the city -again- to get to it, but when he finally got there he couldn't say enough good things about it. Even Zelenka agreed that it was pretty much perfect, so then they had to begin planning what equipment and tools they'd want and how they were to be brought.

This had them going to find Markham and Miller, the two pilots skippering the air launches, who happened to be lounging about in the mess hall drinking coffee with Sheppard. It only seemed fair, then, that Rodney and Zelenka get some too.

"Hey, McKay!" Sheppard greeted Rodney, as he sat across from him. "Did you see we got the lifts to run for everyone now?"

"Not in tower four you haven't," Rodney replied, "and that's where the new science and engineering shops are going to be, so you need to get on that."

"Tower four? I thought the work shops were going to be in tower one," Sheppard said. "We got that one unlocked, so what are we going to use it for now?"

"I don't know," Rodney said with a shrug that he hoped communicated that he also didn't care. "Storage, a place to do training stuff for the Marines, side projects..."

"Brewery," Zelenka muttered into his coffee. Suddenly both Miller and Markham took interest in the conversation.

"Seriously Doc?" Markham asked. "You know how to build a brewery?" For an answer, the Czech stared piercingly at both Airmen.

"Dumb question," Sheppard stage whispered sideways to them, and Zelenka nodded sagely.

They got down to business after that, and Rodney learned that everyone except Lorne had been ferried back from the Athosian settlement by now, and most of those who'd wanted to go back to the Daedalus to collect their things had been delivered as well.

"We're ready to start hauling cargo," Miller said, "but my first couple of loads are going to be consumables and the rest of the galley equipment. Markham's all yours though, and I'll be at your disposal as soon as the galley's done with me."

Not even Rodney could argue that science equipment had priority over food, so he worked with what he had, and found the situation more than satisfactory. Before they finally parted company -the Airmen to their launches and Rodney and Zelenka to go and get Gaul and Parrish for their input (and physical labor) in preparing the labs- Sheppard had one more question for Zelenka.

"Hey, Doc," he said. "Mind if I take your 'orlub' flying machine and do a little workout on it?" Zelenka looked puzzled by the idiom and Rodney translated.

"Sheppard wants to go see how many different ways he can get himself killed using your hair brained flying machine," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh!" Zelenka said, eyes widening with surprised pleasure. "You want to try to fly orlub using direct control?" Sheppard nodded enthusiastically.

"You will promise to be careful and not do as McKay suggests?" he checked, causing Rodney to roll his eyes again.

"Scout's Honor!" Sheppard said, lifting his right hand with three fingers raised, left hand on his heart. "I'd like to leave it stationed on Atlantis, for quick transport and messenger duties."

"That is the very purpose which I hoped my orlub would serve," Zelenka said earnestly. "So of course I approve, and I wish you the best of luck."

"Wanna come with, McKay?" Sheppard called as they parted, but Rodney only shuddered and gestured him away vehemently.

"Don't include me in your insanely dangerous impulses!" he snapped. "It's bad enough I had to risk my life in that thing twice." He turned to glower at Zelenka who he heard chuckling beside him.

"And you!" Rodney accused. "You just encourage him! It's... it's exploitation!"

"Well, he is agreeing to prove the effectiveness of my life's work," Zelenka said with a shrug and a twinkle in his eye. "I simply cannot find it in me to disapprove."

And suddenly, seeing the profound joy in the man's sparkling, mischief filled eyes, his open, cherubic smile, Rodney couldn't either.

***

Harry Maybourne had greeted Ford's arrival by air launch on Atlantis, and the news he'd brought at the breaking of dawn that morning, with truly mixed feelings.

Certainly, the fact that he still had a confederate among the expedition members wasn't a bad thing, even if he was no longer sure exactly how trustworthy he was. Harry had spent the whole night, however, running through a variety of different scenarios that might result from the possible outcomes of this highly risky rescue mission, and found that those in which Ford -or even the whole party- were killed didn't turn out all that badly for him and his mission.

The unavoidable chaos that would have followed such a disaster would have assuredly left him many opportunities for taking possession of the Artifact, and even an all-out reprisal attack by the wraith might have provided an opportunity for him to take control of the whole expedition. That could very well have resulted in his being able to deliver not only the Artifact to Edison, but all of the scientific advances and discoveries achieved by the expedition as well. If his personal goal was go put himself in Edison's good graces, that would be the best outcome of all.

That, however, was not how it had gone down. Instead, the rescue mission had proved a nearly unqualified success (Maybourne counted the loss of five men and Sumner as more than acceptable), and the scientists on Atlantis had discovered a weapon that would likely render any reprisal attempt by the wraith of little consequence.

Still, Maybourne was nothing if not adaptable, as this is a rather vital attribute in a spy. At the moment he was considering what he'd learned in a meeting with Caldwell this afternoon, and the Captain's decision to keep only a skeleton crew on the Daedalus while the majority of personnel and assets went to Atlantis.

It had been easy for Maybourne to agree that their military forces would be better positioned on Atlantis and that McKay's mantle chandelier would continue to provide more than sufficient protection for the Daedalus. It had easy to appoint himself one of the four Marines who would remain on the Daedalus as well, and now he had time and opportunity to search Dr Weir's quarters at his leisure -that was, unless she came to collect the Artifact before he did.

He had reason to hope that she wouldn't think to remove it from the relative safety of the Daedalus until she found someplace better to put it, and to further that end he'd had Ford put a musket ball into the light fixture in the room they'd discovered at the foot of the tower. That was surely where Weir's Artifact was meant to go, and since they'd failed to find a way to either close the door or turn out the light, this seemed the only way to reduce the chances of the room being found.

Still, the sooner he acted, the better the chances that Harry would secure the Artifact for himself (and his employer), and the first thing he needed to do to that end was study the schedule for the watch and determine the best time to make his move. He'd retired to the quarters he shared with Lorne to do that very thing when there came a knock at the door, which proved, naturally, to be Ford.

"So what's the plan now?" he asked, perching on the edge of the Lorne's bunk. Maybourne put the schedule book he'd been studying down reluctantly, but now was probably as good a time as any to coordinate with Ford, as they hadn't had any chance since the rescue mission had returned.

"Well, the one good outcome of the rescue mission is that Sumner's death puts me in command of the Marines," Harry said. "It means, among other things, that I can schedule their watches so that Weir's quarters go unobserved for long enough time for me to do what I need to."

"I could do that too," Ford offered quickly. "I might even be a little faster."

"You might," Harry said, "but I want you back on Atlantis. You need to do whatever you can, short of shooting anyone, to keep that room from being discovered. People like you; Sheppard likes you. Use that to keep tabs on what everyone is doing and where they're doing it. Got it?"

Ford looked sullen for a moment, then cocked his head and smiled. "Sure, Major. No problem," he said. "What's your plan on getting it out, once you've got the Artifact?" There was something... scheming about Ford's question, but Harry couldn't put his finger on what.

"Sooner or later the eggheads are going to get some data on when the winds quiet down in the tunnel," he answered. "We'll take an air launch during that window, sail it up to the surface and to the nearest port, and send a telegram fro there." 

In truth, Maybourne was hoping for the chance to take Zelenka's flying machine as well, and he was nearly sure that it stood a much better chance of getting anyone up to the surface. In addition, he had no doubts that Edison would be quite pleased at the chance to claim Zelenka's machine as his own, knowing that the Czech scientist would have little recourse -especially if he never returned from the voyage. And if Harry had the chance to get out on his own, without his slightly creepy confederate, he wouldn't be a bit sorry.

"That'll probably work," Ford said, "but I was thinking I'd ask Sheppard to teach me how to fly that orloop thing of Zelenka's. I bet that would be an even better way to get out, and Mr Edison would sure be happy to get his hands on it too."

Harry did his best to keep his expression neutral, and nodded agreeably. "You could have a point there," he said. "Sheppard will probably want as many pilots as possible for the thing, so I'll see about getting him to train me too." Ford's expression was mild as he nodded back, but his eyes were cold.

"Oh yeah," he said now. "I meant to tell you; I may have provided you with a distraction you could use to cover your operation in Weir's quarters."

"What kind of distraction?" Harry asked warily.

"I got Sheppard to let me bring up the rear on our way out of wraith territory," Ford said, "and I saw that someone had put a couple of Elder Signs up to block the wraith from going down the tunnel we were using. I threw 'em away."

Maybourne did not miss the involuntary wince that Ford gave as he mentioned the Elder signs. If that kid wasn't a cultist through and through Harry would eat his hat. "And what exactly does this accomplish?" he asked.

Ford shrugged, clearly careless of the havoc he might well be responsible for unleashing. "Sooner or later the Wraith'll figure out they can get down in among the settlements," he said, "and when they do it'll raise a fuss somewhere else. Then, while everyone else is looking to where the trouble is, we can do whatever we need to here."

Harry pursed his lips in thought. The kid wasn't wrong, just... completely amoral. Sure, Maybourne wasn't above sticking a shiv into the ribs of anyone who personally got in his way, but betraying his whole species... Harry supposed that it was proof that even he had limits -limits that his 'confederate' apparently didn't have.

"Good job of thinking on your feet, Lieutenant," Maybourne approved, hoping Ford would buy it. For now, Maybourne couldn't afford to let Ford know that his partner in crime thought him an abomination. For now they would have to keep up an appearance of a unified front, though Harry was now even more determined to throw the kid over the side at the first opportunity.

Aiden Ford wouldn't be the first partner he'd cut loose, and he very likely wouldn't be the last. Loyalty was for dogs and fools, Harry Maybourne was thoroughly convinced, and he had better things in mind for himself.

****


	10. Chapter Nine: In which Sheppard learns to fly something new, and a great celebration takes place.

**Chapter 9**

  
** "The desire to fly is an idea handed down to us by our ancestors who, in their grueling travels across trackless lands in prehistoric times, looked enviously on the birds soaring freely through space, at full speed, above all obstacles, on the infinite highway of the air." **

  
_** -Orville Wright ** _

**  
"More than anything else the sensation is one of perfect peace mingled with an excitement that strains every nerve to the utmost, if you can conceive of such a combination." **

****

_**  
** _

_** -Wilbur Wright ** _

 

_** ~~~~~ ** _

 

_**   
** _

Gazing at the controls before him, John Sheppard ran over the procedure he'd followed once before, for getting Zelenka's giant, mechanical pigeon off the ground. It was discomfiting to have everything marked in a language which was indecipherable to him, but then he reminded himself that those controls were of no concern for him now. They were, for the most part, only for the pre-programmed functions of the orlub, but he was going to do what no one else had done before, and actually fly the thing himself.

For that, Zelenka had explained to him, he would use the pivoting knob in the center of the console -which controlled the machine's attitude- and a single pedal on the floor -which controlled wing speed. The olub's takeoff and landing functions would still be reprogrammed, however, which meant that the trickiest point would be at the transition. John would have about fifteen seconds to take control of the orlub when the takeoff sequence ended, and then he would be on his own.

Zelenka had been nervous just explaining it to him, and John was plenty nervous now, sitting in the pilot's seat and perched on the Daedalus' quarter deck. Drawing a breath, he remembered how it had felt to be sitting in this very seat, watching the sun rise over the North Atlantic, swooping down to circle above the lighthouse, as free as the other winged creatures who swooped and wheeled about him. The machine had been in control then, but if John was half the pilot everybody said he was, he could have that freedom for himself. All he had to do was take one more leap of faith... in himself.

Gathering his resolve, John set the controls for takeoff and flipped up the toggle that would bring the orlub to life. As before, it shuddered and 'fluffed' itself -making sure all its flight surfaces were in order, Zelenka had explained to him. Then it gathered itself and sprang to the rail, and after only the briefest of pauses, sprang once more, into the air.

The orlub's wings beat furiously at first as it gained altitude, but it did not take long to attain level flight. After only a few seconds John heard the chime that warned that the controls would be released in fifteen seconds. The chime rang three more times -at five second intervals- and at the last, John was ready. He began by immediately pulling back on the knob and pressing down on the pedal, to lift the machine higher and push it faster.

The orlub instantly angled upward steeply, but hardly sped up at all, causing a moment of frightening instability. So, the knob control was tetchy, the pedal not so much. John held the attitude steady, but put more pressure on the pedal, seeing that there was more give there than he'd thought. Now the orlub surged forward and climbed... straight toward the wall of the cavern.

Ever so carefully, John nudged the attitude knob to the left and the orlub banked nicely, veering away from the cavern wall at a comfortable distance. Damn, this was working out great! He tried guiding the craft down toward the surface of the sea now, plotting a serpentine course that had him banking to the left then the right, then the left again, all the way down. He quickly got a feel for the controls, and tried a few sharper swerves, laughing out loud as he felt himself gain mastery of the craft.

He pulled up sharply as he approached the Daedalus, eliciting a surprised shout from the lookout, then banked to the right and set a course for the Athosian settlement. The orlub's copper and brass feathers gleamed as he danced in and out of the directed, afternoon sunbeams, and the fleeting shadows he threw across the settlements had folk pausing in their various tasks to see what had caused it. Shouts and gleeful ululations greeted him as he passed the opening to the Athosians' side cavern and he waved, grinning as he spotted Jinto among those watching.

Now he wheeled to the right, making a slow circle to head back toward Atlantis. He did not take a direct route, naturally, but flew low, passing in front of the lower waterfall closely enough to become moistened by the spray. Then he pulled up to rise above the lake and then above the city, gliding over the outlying piers and then coming in close to circle the central tower. He'd planned to set the craft down on the upper level balcony, but now he found he was loathe to leave off. The freedom was intoxicating, and his skills improved with every minute he remained, so what harm could there be in staying up a little longer?

Waving gleefully to Bates and Parrish, watching him from a lower balcony on the central tower, John carefully nudged the controls to carry him up and away from the city. He circled it once more, from a distance, then soared across the cavern toward the wide tunnel entrance and its surrounding mirror array. As an experienced pilot, John almost certainly should have taken into consideration the possibility of wind, but of course, then was generally very little in the cavern... except for near the tunnel.

It was as he swept past the mirror array above the tunnel entrance that John first began to feel the orlub fight his control, veering closer to the array when he directed the flying machine to bank away. He pressed down on the pedal to increase his speed, and pulled the attitude knob hard to the right, and then he felt the wind, pulling at him and the orlub and drawing them into the tunnel.

Of course, John thought with disgust at his own carelessness, The gale-force down-draft that had swept the Daedalus into the Hollow Earth during the night must naturally be matched by an updraft during the day. John pressed the speed pedal down as far as it would go, feeling the craft bucking the wind currents pulling at it. For several very long seconds John wasn't sure he was going to manage to pull himself out, but then, all at once, the orlub broke free, and John let out an unrestrained whoop of joy.

Now he flew a straight course back to Atlantis, taking only a half circle around the central tower before engaging the landing algorithm. The orlub responded perfectly, coming to perch neatly on the balcony railing and then falling still. John remained where he was for a spell, letting the shakiness of exhilaration and adrenaline pass before he dismounted. Weir and Beckett came running even as his feet came to rest on the terrace floor.

"We, ah, need to tell the expedition meteorologist... what's his name, Scott?" Sheppard said, "that there's a hell of an updraft going into the tunnel during the day. Probably ought to inform all the air launch pilots too."

Weir's eyebrows rose significantly at this information.

“I don’t want to know how you found that out, do I?” she asked.

“No, ma’am, you don’t,” John said. “But now that we do know, all the air launch pilots can be advised. Anyone need a lift anywhere?”

Beckett and Weir exchanged slightly alarmed glanced, and John could see he wasn’t going to get any takers here. “Fine, fine,” he said, crossing the terrace to enter the control room. “Maybe there’s someone in here with a proper sense of adventure. Hey Grodin, wanna take a ride?”

Peter Grodin, who John had spotted watching from inside backed away quickly. “No thank you, Captain,” he said with impeccable politeness. “I’m afraid I’m a bit busy just now.”

John had to admit, the pile of books and journals scattered over the work station where Grodin had clearly been occupied, did seem to confirm his reasoning. He cast his eye over the rest of the control room, hoping to find some willing passenger –as John actually did want to see how the orlub handled with the additional weight. His eye fell on the Parrish, the botanist, scribbling away in a notebook, but before John could come up with a strategy for enticing him, he saw that someone was coming up on one of the lifts.

It was McKay and Zelenka, of course, and the Czech was practically bouncing as he mounted the steps up to the control room.

“Captain Sheppard!” he cried. “I only saw for a moment, but I could see she was flying perfectly! How long was your flight? How well did the controls work? Is it too difficult?”

“Definitely not too difficult,” Sheppard said, letting real pleasure show in his smile. “It’s like a dream come true, Doc. Took me a few minutes to get used to how everything worked, and I still haven’t flown it with a passenger, but I’d call it pretty damn near an unqualified success.”

“Výborně!” Zelenka cried, clearly ecstatic. “For so long I had despaired that I would find anyone who wished to take the risk. You have made me very happy man today, Captain Sheppard.”

“All I can say, Doc, is that the pleasure is mutual,” John said, beaming.

“Okay, I’ll tell you what,” John heard Dr Weir say now as she reentered the control room. “I _could_ use a lift over to the Athosian settlement, but I’ve got a box of books for Dr Corrigan too. Will I be able to take them, or should I send them with the launch on their next run?”

“Aha,” Zelenka said, raising a finger. “There is small cargo compartment on orlub. Here, I will show you.”

Elizabeth went and got Corrigan’s books and when Zelenka showed them where the cargo compartment was, they found it just big enough to fit them all.

“Perfect,” Sheppard said, latching the compartment door. “Like a hand up, Dr Weir?” She took John’s hand as he guided her foot into the step and then steadied her has she climbed into the passenger compartment. Beckett stood off to the side looking worried.

“Are you sure you want to do this, lass?” he asked. Dr Weir smiled reassuringly.

“I have complete confidence in both Dr Zelenka’s engineering and Captain Sheppard’s piloting,” she said without hesitation. John and Zelenka both thanked her.

“Oh wonderful,” McKay groused. “Now both their heads will be impossibly swollen, and I still have to work with this one!” He cast a disgruntled glance at Zelenka.

“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Dr Weir said as John fastened his own safety harness and then saw to Dr Weir’s.

“You ready ma’am?” John asked as he brought the orlub to life.

“As I’ll ever be,” Dr Weir replied gamely.

“Here we go then,” Sheppard said. “Hang on! First step’s a doozey!”

Then with a leap and a swoop, they were airborne again, and John felt his own heart soar with joy.

***

Watching his orlub come to life in the hands of a skilled pilot made Radek Zelenka as happy as he’d ever been in his life, more or less. The smile stayed on his face for the whole rest of the day, and made his various tasks seem like the most pleasant work he’d ever done. The smile was probably the reason McKay kept looking at him like that. He probably thought that Radek was a loon, but Radek had been thought a loon before, and had learned not to mind.

They’d gotten all the lab equipment hauled in after lunch, and the Marines had done most of the lifting and carrying, but now the work was in setting up the various labs and work areas, and assembling equipment. All the scientists had arrived on Atlantis now, even Kavanagh, and each discipline had claimed their own area. There’d been a bit of squabbling about that initially, but then McKay had told them, with the wisdom of Solomon, that they could either settle their own disputes or he would arbitrarily assign labs. It was something to see, how quickly interdisciplinary discourse became the very model of harmonious concordance. Radek was beginning to understand and appreciate McKay’s management style.

The lab they’d chosen had a nice big window with a small balcony, and Zelenka paused as he worked from time to time, to take in the remarkable view of the vast subterranean sea and cavern outside. Occasionally he saw Sheppard flying past in the orlub, and it did seem that he had gotten a few more willing passengers, including the Athosian boy, Jinto. No doubt he thought himself the luckiest boy in the Earth… and possibly on it as well, Radek reflected, and he had good reason to think so.

Radek’s own childhood hadn’t exactly been trouble free. They’d been poor, lost their house to fire when Radek was ten, and he’d lost his younger brother in a flood two years later. His land had been torn by war, and ruled by cruel oppressors, but none of it could compare to what these people endured daily, and had endured for generations.

Still, Radek felt a certain fellowship with the folk of the Realms Below for neither his people nor theirs had allowed their hardships and oppressors to defeat them. They knew, as he did, that every day can bring reason for celebration, and that holding on to joy and the pleasures of life were important, even –or especially- in the darkest of times. The Athosians had good reason to celebrate today, however, as did the expedition members. Yes, they would also be celebrating the memories of five fellow members who had ‘given their all’, but celebrate they would. Grieving, Radek knew, found its own time, and came when it would, but joy must be cultivated and nurtured, and so they would do this evening.

Radek was looking forward to it, but it was clear that McKay was not. Radek suspected that it was not grief that had the scientist in its grip, but the horror of his failure, and this too was something Radek had experience with. If he thought on it, Radek could still feel his younger brother’s smaller hand in his –small, cold fingers twined desperately with his own- and he could feel them pulled away inexorably by the monstrous strength of the river which had overtaken them so suddenly.

All the strength of a boy of twelve summers could not have possibly been a match for it, but in his heart Radek still found himself wanting. The responsibility for holding on to his little brother had been his, and he had failed. Scientists are supposed to be accustomed to failure, of course. Failure should be a close companion, as it was said to be the greatest of teachers, and Radek did not disagree, but there were degrees of failure, and a responsible scientist strives to mitigate the impact of his failures… when he can.

Scientists, at the end of the day, are only men, after all, and could no more be masters of their destiny than any other man. Radek had not believed in the doctrines of any Faith for some time, but he knew full well that there are forces that come to play in a man’s life over which he can have no control. Flooding rivers and invading armies were forces of this sort, with which Radek had come to have some familiarity. He thought that possibly McKay had not had so many such experiences.

The slightly desperate attitude with which McKay had approached all his tasks today suggested to Radek that his colleague was using them as a refuge, but there were limits to this approach, no matter how productive it made McKay in the short term. As a boy, Radek had found refuge in his parents’ forgiveness, and their obvious gratitude that at least two of their three children had survived, but Radek didn’t think that there was anyone here for McKay –not here and possibly not anywhere else either.

Of course, there was his sister (who’d elected to stay on the Daedalus with Novak, for now), but they were essentially estranged, and her faith remained a sore point between them. McKay would definitely not seek solace there. Radek knew that there were, in fact, a number of people who actually cared about Rodney McKay as a person, including Weir, Beckett and Sheppard, but McKay was so used to keeping people at a distance, he didn’t see their regard for him, and would be uncomfortable revealing himself before them. McKay clung to his dignity like a drowning man to a plank, and Radek didn’t think that the others understood that so well, for all that they cared for him.

Radek understood, however. He understood McKay’s need for dignity, and his horror at his apparent failure. Radek understood how one can desperately need forgiveness and fear it like fire in the same breath, and he understood how strong McKay was, and how fragile at the same time. Radek saw clearly how the man perceived only his frailty at the moment, and loathed it, but Radek thought that maybe sharing his own, very secret frailty with the man might provide some comfort, and lead him to beginning to forgive himself.

Glancing toward the window again, Radek saw one of the air launches lifting away from the city and carrying a full load of passengers –no doubt headed towards the Athosian settlement were festivities would begin soon. He set down his tools and stood to stretch, combing his fingers through his hair and shaking himself.

“I am ready for a break,” he announced. “And so are you. Also someone will come soon to take us to the Athosian celebration, and if you are here you will end up having to go.”

That got McKay’s attention, and he turned to gaze directly at Radek, brows furrowed. “What… what about you?” he finally said. “Don’t you want to go?”

Radek shrugged. “Very likely the food will be good, if unfamiliar,” he said, “and someone told me that they claim to have a beverage worthy of being called beer. But I think you do not want to go and I think… that you should not be alone.”

“I don’t need a baby sitter,” McKay scowled, crossing his arms.

“No,” Radek said, “but I think perhaps you could use a friend, ne?”

Radek watched the emotions move through McKay’s expressive eyes; first stubbornness, then confusion, deepening to despairing bewilderment. His shoulders slowly slumped and his crossed arms went from being aggressive to protective. “Why?” he asked at last. “Why would you do that? I mean, you’re nearly as smart as I am… You don’t need me…”

So it was as bad as that? Radek’s heart hurt, but he smiled all the same, letting his sadness show. “Perhaps,” Radek said, “I am just smart enough to appreciate you. Come.” He held out his hand, pulling McKay up from his work station and urging him toward the stairs.

“For now what we need may be found in my quarters,” he said. “I even have glasses, so we need not drink from the bottle.”

“Genius level thinking, Zelenka,” McKay said with profound relief. “Positively inspired.”

Seeking to avoid being corralled into going to the Athosian celebration, the two scientists darted surreptitiously from corridor to corridor until they got to the residential tower. By the time they ducked into Radek’s rooms they were a bit giddy, like two school boys hiding from the headmaster. Shortly, Radek found what he was looking for in his ‘sea chest’ and had opened the small, carved oak box with the cut crystal decanter inside, along with two shot glasses, decorated with painted plums.

He poured a healthy shot in each as McKay sat next to him on the bed (the only real seating in the room), then lifted his glass. “Na zdravi!” Radek toasted when McKay had his glass in hand. They both knocked back their measure of the clear liquor, and Radek smiled to feel its warmth course through him.

“Wow!” said McKay, wheezing a bit. “I mean, it’s smooth, but, ah…”

“Eighty proof,” Radek said, flashing a grin. “My housekeeper makes it, from plums.”

“Plums?” McKay said dubiously, examining the picture on the glass as Radek refilled it.

“We grow a lot of them,” Radek explained, tossing back his second shot.

“Well, here’s to plums,” McKay said, following Radek’s example once again and shuddering in the wake of the liquor’s fire. Already Radek could feel the slivovitz’s relaxing mellow, and might have left off at two shots, but McKay was going to need at least one more to break the hold of the miserable malaise which had seized him, and so he poured one more round. McKay peered at the refilled glass, and at Radek suspiciously.

“You’re not trying to make yourself smarter than me by knocking off my brain cells, are you?” he asked, even as he lifted his glass.

“Effects are temporary, I promise,” Radek said. “And also, am subjecting own brain cells to same abuse, as you can see.” Radek sipped at his own liquor now, savoring the taste a bit as he had not before. With an air of resignation, McKay swallowed his down in one desperate gulp and set his glass down on the packing crate they were using as a table just a bit forcefully.

“God,” he said, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. “I might actually be willing to sacrifice a few of them, if only someone would promise me that I would never see that poor bastard on fire again. He’s there every time I close my eyes, every time I try to sleep, the minute I don’t have something urgent to focus on… I can’t stand it anymore and I can’t function like this…”

It was pure human instinct that lead Radek to place a gentle hand on McKay’s shoulder, and it made his heart ache to feel the man tremble at the touch. “I speak from experience,” he said, feeling the ghost of his little brother’s hand slip out of his once more, “when I say to you that it will fade, but also… not all scars are to found on one’s skin.”

“Great,” McKay said, not lifting his head. “I have scars in my brain now.”

“Neither you nor I were meant to have an ordinary life, McKay,” Radek said. “There will inevitably be scars… and deeper wounds as well, but you may be surprised to learn how one can go on to live life, and live well, when the choice is that or giving in to despair.”

“I killed a man, Zelenka,” Mckay said at last, raising his head to meet Radek’s gaze, though there was no hope in his clear blue eyes. “Out of arrogance and foolhardiness… and he died horribly. I can’t take it back; I can’t make it not happen. It’s never going to go away for as long as I live.”

“Radek,” Radek said softly. “You should call me Radek, I think, and I will confess to you that I was the main victim of my own arrogance… but the consequences will be with me for the rest of my life as well.” He lifted his hand away from McKay’s shoulder, tossed back the remaining liquor in his glass and began to unbutton his shirt.

“What are you talking about?” McKay asked, frowning, despair still coloring his voice. “You already showed me your ‘noble scars’.”

“Noble?” Radek snorted bitterly. “There is nothing noble in how I got these. They are badges of my arrogance, nothing more, and what you saw…” Radek finished unbuttoning his shirt and then reached down to lift his under-vest, revealing the impossibility which lay beneath. “What you saw is the least of what I bought myself that day.”

McKays eyes widened, predictably, as he took in the apparatus Radek wore beneath his shirt. It was the harness which most people noticed at first, though these days Radek hardly noticed it at all –he’d worn the soft, supple leather next to his skin for so long now. McKay’s eyes, however, went right to the heart –literally- of the matter, as would any technician.

Through the brass bound, round crystal window seated in his chest, McKay would be seeing the clockwork motion of the piston mechanism which did not replace Radek’s heart, but supported it. For sixteen years it had kept Radek Zelenka alive, but only two people in the world knew about it. Rodney McKay would be the third.

Not unreasonably, McKay sat speechless for several long seconds. “Oh my God…” he said at last. “What… what happened? Are you… okay? Should you even be on this expedition?”

“I am as fit as you, McKay –probably fitter,” Radek scowled, lowering his shirt again. “And have been all the time I have worn this apparatus. As for what happened… it is a tale I would share with you, but it is not a short one.”

“Of course it isn’t,” McKay said with resignation. “But you’ve got me going now so you might as well pour me another drink and get on with it.”

Radek did as requested, pouring another for himself as well. Perhaps it would make revisiting those painful events less so, Radek thought, but did not really hope.

“ _Tak,_ ” he said. “I was with Tesla in those days. We had taken over the old city water tower in Praha and turned it into our residence and workshop –the first electrical engineering firm in central Europe. We were going to electrify Prague -make it a real city of lights, brighter than Paris. We were so full of dreams in those days.”

“When was this?” McKay asked.

“Eighteen sixty-eight,” Radek answered. “Nikola was still five years away from alternating current, but we knew it must be and to us that seemed like tomorrow. We made plans for a water driven generation plant on the Vltava and designed electrical devices for the Empire’s elites. Neither one of us was interested in war machines, and we didn’t mind letting the world know. We thought we could bend the world to our design and we feared nothing and no one.”

“That would be the pride that goeth before…” McKay prompted.

“The fall, yes,” Radek said. “We ignored the first missive from the Prussian King. When he sent an emissary, offering us both princely sums if we would come to work for him, we were altogether rude to him, and when he sent another, we would not let him in and dropped rubbish and rotten vegetables on him from an upper window. We laughed ourselves dizzy. We thought nothing of it at all.”

“Why would you,” Mckay commented quietly, knowing, more or less, what must come next.”

“It was early February, in the dead of winter, in the dead of night,” Radek continued. “They used a small charge of gun powder to break down the door, and then they placed a five man guard at the door and locked the servants in the coal cellar. They captured Nikola and I and took us to our machine shop, and explained that we would sign a contract agreeing to work for Wilhelm of Prussia and swearing fealty to him, or we would be tortured to death.”

“And you didn’t sign?” McKay asked. “Why didn’t you just sign and then cut and run, later?”

“Because the contract was essentially a formality,” Radek explained. “We were being told to sign away our freedom, and we knew that we would not be given any chance to ‘cut and run’, as you say, once we had signed. Also… we were young and in love… and entirely devoted to our ideals. The idea of death did not frighten us… and we did not yet know what it was to suffer –not really.”

“What… what did they do?” asked McKay.

“They used an electric probe… meant to carry current from the network of batteries and capacitors in the building to the various devices Nikola and I were working on,” Radek replied, seeing McKay wince. “They decided to use it on me and make Nikola watch –I have no idea why they chose him to watch and not I- and eventually they figured out how to increase the current.” Radek fell silent then, the memory of the agonies he’d endured still fairly vivid.

“They… they could have killed you,” McKay said, voice quiet with horror.

“They could have,” Radek confirmed. “Though if they had their own lives might well have been forfeit. They had no idea what they were meddling with, and in the end their lives were forfeit anyhow. They shocked and burned me with electricity until the household batteries and capacitors were exhausted, which they did not realize would cause certain automatic defense mechanisms to be activated –including sending all twenty orluby into active mode, and running their defensive algorithm.”

“’Defensive algorithm’?” McKay inquired.

“They attack anything that moves,” Radek answered. “With razor sharp primaries, beak and claws. Eleven men had their throats or wrists cut and bled to death. The rest ran away. Fortunately my housekeepers –Josef and Hanka, who serve me still- knew of the various defensive measures and waited until the birds’ program had run their course, then they freed themselves from the coal cellar and came upstairs to free us. But it was too late for me by then… or under normal circumstanced it would have been. The repeated electric shocks had damaged and weakened my heart, and I felt sure I had only days –or perhaps only hours- to live.”

“But…” McKay said after a shocked pause. “You didn’t give up, you built this.” He gestured to the device Radek had just revealed to him. Radek shook his head sadly.

“It was not I, but Nikola who built this, and saved my live.” Radek said. “I have never known anyone whose belief in themselves so bordered on the pathological, but he was determined not to lose me. I, on the other hand…” Radek sighed. “I was so horrified by my foolishness, my profound arrogance and miscalculation about what powerful men would do to be able to control my works and my brilliance… I was not sure I wanted to live at all. All I saw in my future was that I would either be some other man’s pawn, or spend my whole life in hiding.”

“Which is… more or less what you did,” McKay commented.

“Yes, after Nikola left,” Radek replied. “We’d begun to make a fortress of our tower in Prague when Nikola’s mother died, and he went back to Serbo-Croatia to settle her affairs. When he tried to return he was stopped from reentering Bohemia, on orders of King Wilhelm of Prussia. We had used our influence, in the wake of the attack on our home, to secure the Emperor’s protection within the borders of the Empire, but it now became clear that we had not secured our own freedom.”

“Then that’s… why you’re not together anymore?” McKay asked. “I mean… I’d always assumed that you’d had a falling out or something.”

“Oh we did, after a fashion,” Radek said. “But I suppose it was inevitable after that. We dared not even speak freely in our letters, as we knew our correspondence would not be private from Wilhelm’s spies. I knew that Nikola wanted me to find some way to escape to England, where we would be outside of Prussia’s reach, but it would have been terribly dangerous for me once I left the territories of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. I wanted him to find a way back into the Empire, to come back to me in Prague, but even though I dared not suggest this in any letter, I knew he would never consent.”

“Why not?” McKay asked, which Radek thought was sweet of him.

“Nikola had already sacrificed his own home, long ago,” Radek replied. “He had done so for the sake of his career, for he could not bear to be constrained, to be prevented from going wherever he needed to in order to advance his work, and human knowledge. Returning to Prague, for him, meant being trapped, and he was not wrong. London and New York had far more to offer him, and thus allowed him to offer more to the world. I know he loved me, and I loved him, but in the end we both loved our work more.”

“Yeah…” McKay said sadly. “I don’t know what I would have done, I guess… not that there’s ever been anyone in my life that I might considered risking my scientific work for… besides my sister, I mean. And with family… well it isn’t really an option, is it?”

“Not everyone would say so,” Radek said softly, moved by the man’s nearly thoughtless devotion. “But McKay… have you truly never had anyone take a place in your heart, no one for whom you might have been tempted to give up everything?” McKay’s short answering laugh had a bitter edge to it.

“After four drinks,” he said, “and you want me to call you Radek; you’d better just call me Rodney, don’t you think?”

“Máš pravdu,” Radek said, pouring a fifth round. “You’re right, Rodney.”

McKay… Rodney, sipped at his fresh drink now and shuddered. “And to answer your question, no,” he said. “There was one person at the SPB, who I thought for a little while… but that turned into a hideous fiasco. So no, no one –no loves in my life, great or small. They say it’s supposedly better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but honestly, I’m just as glad to have been spared the drama.”

Radek nodded sagely. “It may be that you are wise,” he said, “and that those who say such things are only trying to console themselves. I know that I consigned myself to a life alone, after I realized that Nikola and I would likely never see one another again, and thought that it might be for the best, if I was to make the most of the rest of my life. I renounced my fame and society connections and left Prague to live the life of a very comfortable hermit, as if I could renounce the whole world.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first person who tried,” Rodney said kindly. “I’m… glad you finally gave it up… being a hermit, I mean.”

Radek felt a new warmth, superior to and supplanting that of the liquor. “I am glad to hear you say so,” he said with a smile, lit by the warmth he felt. “You are, in large part, responsible for the fact that I did, you know.”

“I am?” Rodney sounded genuinely shocked.

“It was a ‘flaw’ if you will, of my own character that I soon found that while I wanted the world to have no concerns with me, I could not bring myself not to concern myself with the world. I declared that I would no longer publish, but could not imagine abandoning my various journal subscriptions, nor even give up reading the newspapers, which I had delivered from Paris and Berlin, as well as Prague. For some years I managed to content myself with this, but your work provoked me beyond all endurance, Rodney.”

“I’m told I have a gift for provocation,” Rodney said with a smirk. Radek rolled his eyes.

“Yes, well, of course your published work was brilliant, and miles beyond what everyone else was doing,” Radek acknowledged, “but it was sloppy, and undisciplined. I could not bring myself to stay silent any longer.”

“Sloppy!” Rodney retorted indignantly. “I’ll tell you what’s sloppy! Your mathematical proofs –that’s what’s sloppy, and full of mistakes to boot!”

“Mistakes?” Radek fired back, slamming his glass down. “You want to talk about mistakes? Let us examine your plans for electrical distribution network in New York! It had more mistakes than a stack of freshman math exams!”

“That was Edison’s fault! Not mine!” Rodney declared. “I am never, ever working for that rat bastard again. The design constraints he made me work under… What are you laughing at?”

Radek was laughing, though he’d started as he looked back on his own words. This was just how their indirect correspondence had begun, so many years ago, and he could not help laughing at himself and Rodney, at both of them together, falling back on their most childish behavior.

“We…” he began, “we are such a pair of old fools. Just listen to us!”

Rodney snorted slightly and ducked his head, trying, ineffectually, to hide his slowly growing grin. “Speak for yourself,” he said, without heat. “Your letters and articles… they were pretty much the highlight of my month. Even when you were poking holes in my theories, the fact that you actually understood them… it meant a lot to me.”

Radek nodded, feeling a flush of that non-alcohol related warmth again. “Your responses to my writings… our debates by way of scientific journals… it made me feel alive again,” he said. “As if I were some hibernating creature, coming awake in the spring. And this is the thing I wish you to take from my tale; we two, we have in common a very lively mind. It is inevitable that we will make mistakes, even terrible ones, but we must never be afraid to do so. The only thing we must truly fear, Rodney, is giving up.”

“But I can’t just… just go marching on ahead as though nothing happened,” Rodney said. “A man died because of me, of my mistake…”

“No,” Radek cut him off. “A man died because you and he were being attacked by terrifying creatures of unspeakable evil. He died because they would just as soon have killed all of you, but because of _you_ and your invention they were unable to come near you until they had smashed your invention with a rock. It was merest chance that it was he and not you who was thus stricken, and while I am very sorry for Airman Collins and his family, I am not one tiny bit sorry that it is you standing here today and not him.”

Liquor had done away with the better part of Radek’s discretion, but these were not words he would ever regret. Rodney, for his part, now looked away, eyes wide and a trifle too bright, and Radek gave him a moment.

“People keep telling me,” Rodney said after a few moments and a badly disguised sniffle, “that I’m not supposed to say things like that.”

“Well, people are, for the most part, idiots, as I’m sure you will agree,” Radek said bluntly.

“And people think you’re the ‘nice one’, why?” Rodney demanded indignantly.

“Because they do not know me,” Radek said, grinning with all his teeth. “But you do, and I am very pleased to have it so.”

“I guess… I’m not exactly sorry you know me, either,” Rodney said and Radek found that it was easier to lay an arm over Rodney’s shoulder than not. He did not resist.

“Ah, I see we are now at the point,” he said, “where we will either soon start crying on each other’s shoulders, or we will go and find something to eat before the slivovitz causes us to abandon last shreds of dignity. I recommend applying ourselves to banquet presently being laid on in Athosian settlement. What do you say?”

“I say,” said Rodney with drunken deliberateness, “that if we go back to the central tower we will almost certainly find Sheppard there, looking for us, and I say, that I may even be drunk enough to ride in your idiotic flying machine again.”

“I have never flown in orlub before,” Radek said, eyes wide, “but I too may just be drunk enough. I must first find proper apparel for party, however.”

“Apparel?” Rodney asked, but Radek was already pulling something out from the very bottom of his clothes chest. It was wrapped with care, and Radek unwrapped and unfolded the garment reverently. The white, linen tunic was stiff with embroidery and hand stitched lace, as was the long sash, and Radek laid them both carefully on the bed.

“It is the kroj, our national costume,” Radek said, stripping off his workday shirt. “This is the style from my grandfather’s village; every village had a slightly different style, you see.”

“Ah… huh,” said Rodney, watching him don the garment and tie the sash.

“There is a hat as well, but I did not bring it, as the feather ornament would surely have been crushed,” Radek explained further, as he made the last adjustments and Rodney rolled his eyes. “Now, I am ready for evening of social activities.”

They… swayed more than a little as they headed out into the corridor and down the lift, but kept each other upright and moving forward with arms over each other’s shoulders.

Rodney, unsurprisingly, proved to be correct, in that Sheppard was indeed waiting at the base of the main tower, looking impatient.

“There you are!” he said. “I’d ask what you’ve been up to, but it looks to me like you boys were off getting an early start on the festivities.”

“It was necessary,” Radek waved him off. “Some important conversations require… lubrication, but now we require nourishment.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely both looking well lubricated,” Sheppard said, though there was an understanding light in his eyes. “And there’s nourishment aplenty ahead, but you’re gonna have to share the passenger seat.”

“Yes, yes,” Rodney waved him off. “It’s not like I haven’t done it before, and I don’t imagine it’s going to be anything like as long as my last trip.”

“Definitely not,” Sheppard said, leading them to the landing where the orlub sat. The day’s sun had departed during the time they’d been drinking in his quarters, and Radek looked back at the city to see how it gleamed with its own light in every tower. Below and to his left the Daedalus sat under the brilliant illumination of Rodney’s large mantle chandelier, and across the sea to his right the Athosian settlement glowed with warm firelight and cool moss lights. A lit mantle lantern sat on the deck beside the resting orlub as well.

“One of you’s gonna have to carry that for the flight,” Sheppard said. “Could be useful to have a lantern hook or something on this bird, if we’re gonna take any more night flights here.”

“Hmm, yes,” Radek said, watching Rodney clamber unsteadily into the passenger compartment. Sheppard watched him too, ready to catch or steady him, if needed, but Rodney managed it without assistance, and then reached a hand down to help Radek.

“At least you weigh a lot less than my sister,” Rodney commented as Radek settled onto Rodney’s lap. Sheppard handed him the lamp once they were both secured, and then vaulted into the pilot’s compartment with practiced ease.

“You guys are gonna have to let me give you the full flying tour, sometime when it’s daylight,” he said, waking the orlub. “It’s really something to see.”

Radek nodded, only listening to Sheppard with half his attention, as the full reality of what he was about to do began to sink in. “Hang on!” Sheppard shouted, and then the orlub was hopping, once, twice, three times… There would be several hops, Radek realized, as they were taking off from a level surface, rather than dropping down from a height, as they would on the return trip. Radek wondered if he could secure a seat on one of the air launches for that trip.

Clutching the lantern in his left hand with all his strength, Radek hung on for dear life with his right as the orlub took one last mighty leap and they were airborne –the orlub’s wings flapping furiously to gain altitude.

“Ježiši Márja!” he cried as the orlub lifted them higher and higher. The darkness was, perhaps, a mercy, as Radek could not really see how far up they were, but then he felt Rodney’s arm come to wrap around his waist, pulling him close and lending a sense of security. Radek found himself relaxing –a bit- against the larger man’s warmth and close presence, and felt a sense of gratitude. Maybe it was just the liquor, but it seemed to Radek now that maybe Rodney was not so socially clueless as everyone said.

Though they had walked arm in arm, in drunken camaraderie, to the central tower, their closeness then had more to do maintaining verticality and steady forward momentum. This closeness now, Radek could not help thinking, seemed to import something more. Might there be affection in Rodney’s one armed embrace? It seemed to Radek that there could be an affection there to match that which Radek had begun to feel for Rodney McKay, and while both these realizations came as a surprise, they might, in the end, not be unwelcome.

It had been easy to eschew love for all time, in the weeks and months that followed Radek’s unhappy realization that he would never see his beloved Nokola again. It hurt too much; it made one vulnerable; it interfered with more ‘important’ work. All of these things had been said before, generally by men and women in situations not unlike Radek’s, but Radek felt them to be undeniably true nonetheless. Then what had begun as a determined preference for solitude became a habit, and then an ingrained habit, are such are wont to become.

Had Weir not seduced him away from the ingrained solitude of his life, he’d be there still, none the wiser and just as content as before, but perhaps the fact that she’d been able to seduce him was an indicator that Radek wasn’t so content as he'd thought. Perhaps, additionally, he’d wanted more than merely a break from his solitude when he’d begun to take an interest in Rodney McKay. Now, Radek reflected, finding the press of his body against Rodney’s quite pleasant indeed, there was also the distinct possibility that his interest in Rodney was more than intellectual.

Radek wasn’t sure, but there seemed a decent chance at least that Rodney might be amenable to the idea, and wasn’t that a lovely possibility to contemplate? Of course, the very idea was also fraught with peril, of the sorts Radek knew all too well, but hadn’t Radek just explained to Rodney why men such as they were not meant for a life free of peril?

As a youth, Radek had flirted with danger, ignorant of the consequences of his actions, and when the inevitable catastrophe had struck, he’d run and hidden. It had taken him these sixteen long years to realize that a different sort of danger awaited him in the ‘safety’ of his solitude, and so he had ventured into the world again, older but wiser. The risks he took now he took with his eyes wide open, and he wasn’t sure why that made a difference, but it did.

Eyes wide open he’d traveled half way round the world and sailed into the very heart of it. Eyes open he flew in a machine of his own devising, winging over a subterranean sea and held safe in the arms of a man whose mind was more than the equal to his own, and whom he might just love. Never in his life had Radek Zelenka taken so many risks, and never had he felt so sure he was doing the right thing.

***

Peter Grodin felt his eyebrows rise as he saw the two scientists disembark from the orlub after Sheppard landed it, and beside him, Dr Weir’s did much the same. Both men were clearly inebriated, but they seemed in good spirits otherwise, and so Peter determined to suspend judgment. He knew McKay had taken part in the rescue mission, and from what he’d heard he might well have good reason for ‘unwinding’ a little, and if he’d wanted Zelenka for a drinking partner, well, that was his choice. Peter knew from personal experience how well the Czech scientist could hold his liquor.

Their Athosian hosts had put out a fine spread, of sufficient quantity that even though most folks had filled their plates at least once already, plenty of food remained for the late comers, and for those who still wanted seconds. Peter definitely counted himself among that number, but he waited for Sheppard and the two scientists to go through before he returned to the feast table to choose fresh servings of some of the things he'd liked, and a few new things he hadn't tried yet.

He was definitely having another of those giant stuffed mushrooms, and the stewed lichen, which he'd only taken a tiny portion of (for obvious reasons) but which had turned out to be really delicious. Then there were the grilled sea vegetables, which he hadn't tried yet but which Dr Weir said were very good, and the kelp pockets stuffed with spiced fish, which he was really curious about, but hadn't had room on his plate for before.

Of course, Peter also wanted to save room for some of the sweets crowded onto the table next to the one with all the savories, though some of those were a bit more... challenging than the main course items. There weren't so many sources of sweet flavored things in the Realms Below, and the primary one was a sort of termite which carried a 'honey sack' as part of its anatomy. Toasted honey termites were a great delicacy, he'd been told, and there was a big bowl of them on the sweets table, but Peter thought he'd pass anyhow.

The same could not be said of Dr Weir, who was already cruising the desserts and would appear to have a few of these delicacies on her plate, along with a selection of other sweets. Peter would never call himself a coward -he had joined an expedition to the Hollow Earth, after all- but there were many different kinds of bravery in the world, and Elizabeth Weir possessed one which Peter Grodin definitely did not.

He was brave enough to try the 'ale' which was reportedly made from some sort of lichen, and was surprisingly pleasant. He wondered what Zelenka would make of it, or if anyone would be brave enough to tell him what it was made from. Then again, Peter reflected, none of the Athosians would know anything about what beer meant to a Bohemian.

Regardless of its constituents, the Athosian 'ale' did its part to contribute to a pleasant and entertaining evening, and when everyone had filled themselves with food and drink, and the youngest ones sent to bed, then folk gathered around the fire for stories and songs. 

By tradition, Peter had been told, evenings such as this would begin with stories and songs suitable for younger ears. Then, as the night grew later and the older youngsters were sent off to follow their younger siblings, the material got both bolder and darker. History tales were generally shared earlier, ghost stories and... bawdy tales came latest of all.

As a guest, Henry Corrigan was asked to tell the first history story and he chose -most aptly, Peter thought- the tale of the Puritans and the Indians, and the first American Thanksgiving.

"In many ways, our circumstances are not so different," Teyla commented when the tale finished.

"Indeed," Dr Weir replied, "for we, like the Puritans have come to a new land, where we do not know the way of things, and you have, as the Indians were to the Puritans, been great friends to us."

It certainly did suit the circumstances, as stories went, Peter thought, but he did wonder what the Athosians would think when they heard the rest of the story, and of what eventually happened to those Indians who had been so kind to the Puritan settlers.

"Now," Teyla said, "there is a story I know you have been wanting to hear, and now is the time for that story to be told. We call it the story of Ar Ni, the Second Son, and the Star's Heart, and it happened in the time when my grandmother was young and still learning her first histories."

This was a formal tale opening if ever Peter had heard one, and he settled himself in to hear a long story, while a few others made a run for another mug of ale, or cup of lichen tea. He had found himself a spot on a long low bench by the fire, next to Dr Weir, and he noticed her eyebrows lift when she heard the name Teyla gave her tale.

"The man we called the Second Son was like you, from the Realms Above," Teyla commenced when everyone had settled. "He is spoken of in a few more of our tales and always by this name, although I do not know why we have this name for him. He and his two companions came to our Realms by foot, through some the many passages and tunnels which can connect the Realms Above and Below, if one knows the way.

"He came at a time of terrible depredations by the Wraith, and he fought beside us, using his scientific knowledge to drive them back, though even he could not defeat them completely. And while it is true that his technology was important in the victories he helped our people win against the wraith, we also remember that his spirit, which he was able to pass on to us, was just as important."

Teyla paused here to sip at her tea, giving everyone a moment to absorb the import of those words. "He was a man of great heart as well as great mind, and he was an inspiration to us, at a time when our need for such was profound. It was for that reason that our elders decided that this was the man who was foretold of -a man from the Realms Above who possessed the spirit and heart of a hero- with whom we must entrust our greatest treasure, the Star's Heart.

"This treasure was entrusted to us -the Athosian people, who have always lived most directly under the shadow of the Ancient Ones- by the Ancient Ones themselves, in their last days among us. For generations we kept it safe from the wraith, awaiting the day that the true children of the Ancient Ones would come and claim their city again. It was no small thing, therefore, that the Star's Heart be given into the keeping of one from the Realms Above, but it is said that the Second Son understood fully the import of his charge.

"He promised that he would see that it was returned to us when the children of the Ancient Ones heard its call, though he could not say when that would be." Teyla paused, then looked around her, meeting the eyes of many of the expedition members, communicating, in a way that words could not, the import of their presence here.

"I cannot say," she began again, "that I ever truly expected to see this day, and the truth of it shakes me to the core, even as it fills me with joy. I confess that I expected to see the children of the Second Son and the Star's Heart come _with_ the children of the Ancient Ones. As a keeper of tales, however, I know full well how it is commonly the way of these histories that such things come about in ways more often unexpected than not."

There was a moment's silence, as it was not entirely clear whether the story had ended or not, but then, much to Peter's surprise, he saw Dr Weir slowly stand from where she sat next to him. When she spoke, her own shocked astonishment was evident in her voice.

"You are right," she said, "that such histories frequently unfold in unexpected ways, and I am nearly certain you will not find that your trust has been misplaced. In the journals of my grandfather, Arne Saknussemm, he wrote of his travels to the mysterious lands which lay within our Earth, and how he helped a brave and resourceful people defend themselves from a plague of horrific daemons with only very-lights, flares and flash powder."

Gasps and soft exclamations of surprise ran through the folk gathered, expedition member and Athosian alike. Only Peter had known that the famous Arne Saknussemm was Elizabeth Weir's maternal grandfather or that she had in her possession a number of the old man's journals which had never been intended for publication.

"Then..." Teyla stood, eyes wide in astonishment. "Then the children of the Second Son _are_ here! And the Star's Heart?"

Peter reached up and tapped Dr Weir's wrist gently. "I know where it is," he said. "I can go and get it if you like... if I can find a sober pilot."

"That could be a challenge," Dr Weir replied with a smile, then called out the those gathered. "I'd be much obliged, if any of our pilots considered himself fit for duty at the present moment," she said, "if one such could ferry Dr Grodin quickly over to the Daedalus where the object in question is currently to be found."

Of the six qualified pilots they'd brought on the expedition, four of them were here, but Peter soon heard, "Sorry ma'am," from Markham and Stackhouse, somewhere in the crowd around the fire, and another, "Sorry ma'am," from Lorne, sitting at the edge of the crowd, with Sheppard. From Sheppard, however, Peter heard something different.

"Sure," he said. "I only had one of those weird beer things, and I can take you in the orlub. It'll be twice as fast."

Peter paled for a moment, but he'd made the offer and wasn't going to back out now. He stood instead and made his way over to where Sheppard stood. He'd had several of those 'weird beer things' himself and it was probably just as well. He doubted he'd want to go up in Zelenka's flying machine sober.

"I'll be back straight away," he said optimistically to the eager crowd of Athosians and expedition members, as he and the pilot headed to where the giant mechanical bird stood near the opening to the main cavern. Peter reminded himself that Sheppard had been flying the thing all day, and had any number of people up in it by now. He certainly seemed competent and knowledgeable as he settled Peter into his seat, gave the lantern into his keeping and belted himself in.

"Hang on!" he called when everything was in order.

"I'm already trussed up like a bleeding roast!" Peter called back, nervousness loosening his language. "Why in the bloody hell would I need to..." and then the machine sprang to life and he said something that he ordinarily would never have said in Dr Weir's hearing.

When he'd recovered his wits, and found that he hadn't been dashed against the rocks below, Peter began to hazard a look around, and it wasn't long before he forgot he'd ever been reluctant to take this flight. The Athosian settlement was fast receding behind them and Atlantis, in all her luminous glory, was drawing nigh. Laying beyond that, Peter could see the Daedalus -a blazing beacon beneath McKay's chandelier.

"My goodness!" he exclaimed, eyes wide as he took it all in, and lost for any further words.

"I'll swing you past the city if you want," Sheppard said, only a little smugly. "Won't add but a few seconds to the trip."

"Sure," Peter agreed, grinning like an idiot as Zelenka's miraculous flying machine banked and swooped, carrying them toward the ancient city's fairy-tale towers.

Peter Grodin had seen a lot on his life, starting with his childhood in the streets of Isfahan where his nack for begging in four different languages had brought him to the attention of Dr Edward Weir. The widely travelled anthropologist had asked Peter to be a companion to his young daughter, who generally travelled with him, and Peter had naturally leaped at the chance. He'd seen the four corners of the Earth at Elizabeth Weir's side, all before he'd reached his sixteenth year, and later had been provided with the very same excellent educational opportunities as she had.

Peter had made the most of the opportunities he'd been given, but he also knew himself to be a fortunate man, and never forgot to be grateful for the chances he'd been given in his life. It was gratitude he felt now, along with amazement and joy as the flying machine carried him in graceful swoops and turns around the city of the Ancient Ones. Sheppard did not forget his initial mission, however, and soon enough they banked toward the Daedalus. Peter felt his heart in his throat once more as the flying machine flapped and fluttered to dodge the many ropes and stays filling the space above the Daedalus' decks, but they managed it without mishap, the before Peter knew it they were perched on the quarterdeck, safe and sound.

It took a second or two to pry the mantle lantern from the death grip with which Peter was clutching it, but he managed it with Sheppard's assistance and was out of the orlub and standing solidly on the deck by the time Caldwell showed up. Peter left Sheppard to explain their presence, and headed directly down to Dr Weir's cabin.

From the quarterdeck, Peter had to descend two decks to the main deck, then ascend again to the upper deck of the forecastle, where Weir and Caldwell each had quarters. At the top of the stairs on that deck, a single door lead into a very short, narrow hallway which let on to the two cabins, so that their entrances were not directly exposed to the elements.

Peter hadn't expected to see anyone in the corridor; he'd just left Caldwell back on the quarter deck, after all, and Dr Weir was back in the Athosian settlement. He could not conceive of why Maybourne should be there, much less why he should be standing at the threshold of Dr Weir's quarters, holding in his hand the very item Peter had come for.

"Major Maybourne?" Peter asked, uncertainly

The man's expression was difficult to read in the dark passageway, but it soon hardened, as did his posture.

"This is government business," he said, in a voice that clearly expressed an expectation of obedience. "Best to pretend you saw nothing here and be on your way."

Maybe that would work on a soldier, Peter thought indignantly, but it certainly cut no ice with him. "I'll do nothing of the sort!" he retorted, standing his ground. Even in the low light Peter could see the Marine's body tense in response -his intention to use physical force next too obvious. Maybourne may have been a career military man, but he'd been raised in the genteelest of settings, and no doubt thought himself a man of superior culture. Peter, on the other hand, had spent his formative years scrapping for food and coins in the streets of Isfahan, and such skills as one leans in those years are never really lost.

Maybourne telegraphed his moves terribly and Peter let him throw the first punch with confidence, ducking one blow, blocking the next and then sweeping his feet out from under him. Peter caught him in the crotch with his knee as he went down, and when Maybourne crumpled, shrieking in pain and shock, Peter turned just long enough to shout out through the open door.

"Thief!!" he cried. "I've caught a thief in Dr Weir's quarters!"

Satisfied with the answering shouts and sound of running footsteps, Peter turned back to Maybourne, kicking at his hand where he still tried to keep a grip in the brass bound case he'd removed from Weir's room. Maybourne swore furiously, but futilely and Peter grabbed the case away.

"Government business my arse!" Peter said. "This is Dr Weir's private property, and the government - _if_ that's who you're _really_ working for- has no business with it whatsoever!"

It was Lt Smith who came pelting up the stairs first, and Maybourne made another attempt at getting the upper hand when he saw who it was.

"Smith!" he choked out. "He attacked me! I caught him coming out of Weir's quarters with property that wasn't his! Arrest him immediately!" Smith, to Peter's relief, was not taken in.

"I'm sorry sir," he said, "but I just heard Sheppard telling the Captain that he was here at Weir's request to collect something of hers... and I'm honestly not convinced that Dr Grodin would attack anyone."

"Traitor!" Maybourne spat, but then Caldwell showed up and Maybourne was out of luck.

"Take him to the brig," the Daedalus' captain said with disgust as Maybourne was clapped in irons and lead away. "And you'd better be prepared to talk or I'll be taking measures to encourage you to do so, rest assured."

"Wow," Sheppard said, watching the man being lead away. "I can't say I'm surprised to find out that he was taking orders from someone other than the SPB, but I am just a little surprised he got caught."

"I can't say I'm surprised either," Caldwell said, mouth pursed as though he'd just eaten something sour. "Even Ford mentioned to me, the other day, that he thought Maybourne was up to something."

"And that's what he was up to?" Sheppard inquired, pointing at the case now in Peter's hand. "What is it, anyway? Is that the 'Star's Heart' Teyla was going on about?"

"It very well may be," Peter answered, "but I'm afraid I can't tell you any more than that without Dr Weir's say so. Dr Weir has entrusted me with more than a few secrets regarding her work and her fortune, and if I am to continue to be worthy of that trust..." Sheppard let him off the hook with an understanding wave of his hands.

"Yeah, okay," he said. "Don't sweat it. I can ask her myself when I see next."

"Yes, exactly," Peter said with a smile. "And I'm fairly sure that a lot of secrets about this device are about to be revealed to the whole world... well the whole of the Realms Below, anyhow."

"Well, alright them," said Sheppard with satisfaction. "Let's go and get this baby back to Weir before it causes any more problems, shall we?"

"Yes indeed," Peter said with heartfelt enthusiasm. He'd had a feeling that taking this precious object from where it had spent the last several years would be a perilous endeavor, and he was keen to see it settled where it properly belonged. There was no doubt in his mind that Atlantis was the place, though where in Atlantis he could not say. Perhaps, he thought as he strapped himself into the orlub's passenger seat once more -Star's Heart carefully ensconced between his feet- Teyla would know.

He very much hoped so, for as long as the Star's Heart remained in play, danger and conflict were sure to follow it.

****

Evan Lorne had felt lucky to be alive more than a few times in his life, but probably never so much as he did now. His rescue had really come as something of a shock and the full impact of it -of the fact that he was alive and mostly well, along with everyone truly important to him- had taken the better part of a day to really come home. Waking yesterday morning had been mainly disorienting and painful, but he was clearer headed this morning, and the pain of his bruised ribs and crack on the head had diminished somewhat, leaving his thoughts free to explore more completely the events of the past couple of days.

It had definitely been a momentous few days, culminating in the surprise revelation last night, that Dr Weir was the granddaughter of Arne Saknussemm and that she'd brought with her some mysterious and powerful object which the Athosians claimed had come from the Ancient Ones themselves. It had kicked the mood of last night's party up from celebratory to ecstatic, though Evan was, himself, still boggling a bit over the rescue, and never mind the mysterious ancient devices.

Seeing that anyone had actually come to rescue them from the Stygian horror of the wraith hive had come as a shock, but it had been no surprise at all, really, to see that Sheppard was among his rescuers. Who else would be so crazy as the man who had ruined his career and broken in to the most notorious prison camp in the history of prison camps, in order to rescue Lorne once before? And who else, having accomplished his rescue from the wraith, would then assume that Evan had already given his heart to someone else?

Another man might have taken offence, but Evan knew John Sheppard too well. Why he was so quick to assume that he would be discarded Evan did not know, except that it was clear that John had been discarded by more than one person or organization in his life, so that he had come, more or less, to expect it. Evan would have liked nothing better than to teach his lover to expect better things -from him at least- but there were, of course, complications.

Evan lay now, having woken early, on a large, 'family style' sleeping pad, between two warm bodies, belonging to two very dear people -one whom he had loved for some years, and one whom he he was coming just now to respect and possibly love as well. Some might say that the peoples of these realms had bravery bred into them by their circumstances, but Evan did not find it any less remarkable for all that. 

He had a feeling that John felt the same, but he was hesitant to bring up the subject of Teyla with John, given the likelihood that he would assume it was a preamble to his being given the brush-off. Too often Evan wanted to shake his lover hard, until his brain stopped generating such idiocy, but then when he wasn't thinking that, all he could think of was how much he wanted to enclose the man in the circle of his arms and kiss the living daylights out of him.

But for his aching ribs, Evan was highly inclined to wake the man sleeping next to him by just such a method, and he had an idea that Teyla, sleeping on his other side, might not object at all. In fact, she might ask to join in. Evan was starting to get the impression that she might not be at all averse to such an arrangement, and wouldn't that be a lovely thing? It seemed that the only 'morals' which guided the people here were those which encouraged survival, and limiting who or how many one could love did not seem to further that end. Evan found this stance sensible, at the very least, and decidedly appealing in his case.

He wasn't really sure how John would feel about it, however, apart from secretly harboring a certainty that he was expendable, as in all things. Could he and Teyla convince John that he was doubly non-expendable, Evan wondered? He knew he'd like to try, at least.

He knew he'd also like to wake John with a kiss, even if it wouldn't be as enthusiastic as he could wish, given the state of his ribs. Evan rolled over on to his side cautiously, reaching across to find John, curled on his side, back to Evan and Teyla. As usual, John woke at the faintest touch, wary and alert, but Evan's hand stayed on his shoulder, tugging him gently closer. It took a moment or two for John to respond, but he did eventually, and was ready for Evan's kiss when it came.

It was a slow, sleepy kiss, laced with gentle affection, and Evan was pleased to draw it out as long as he could. "Feeling better this morning?" John asked when they finally broke apart.

"Mmm, yeah," Evan murmured. "It's that great 'not dead' feeling I get from hanging out with you."

The room was dark, save for a few faint glow moss decorations outlining the door and window, but Evan could hear the seriousness in John's voice when he answered. "It wasn't just me," he said, moving as though to pull away. Even did not let him.

"You telling me it wasn't your idea?" Evan asked pointedly. "Or that you didn't go to Caldwell to insist that he lend you a gun and a crew?"

Silence was the only answer John gave, but Evan could still feel the tension in the body beside his own.

"I know you aren't the only one who came after us," Evan said. "And I know that other people died saving us, but I didn't. I didn't die, John, and neither did Teyla or Jinto's father or Corrigan, because of what you did. I think I'm entitled to my gratitude, don't you?"

Evan felt John's head come to rest against his shoulder, breath warm on his skin.

"That's not why I did it," he said. "It's just... that's what I do."

"And you think I don't know that?" Evan replied. "It doesn't mean I can't be grateful... or that I can't love you. It's a big part of _why_ I love you John -not because you keep saving _my_ life, but because you're the guy who can't stop himself from saving people, no matter who they are."

"Yeah, that's me alright," John said, no small amount of bitterness in his voice. "And apparently, that makes me an incorrigible screw-up."

"Not here, it does not," Teyla's voice came from behind them.

"No, here it just makes me a crazy man," John said, a smile in his tone now, at least. "Which, I'll admit, I kinda prefer."

"That is not so unreasonable," Teyla said. "After all, more than one of our teaching tales would have us remember that what seems 'crazy' one day may be great wisdom on another, and that we discount such wisdom at our peril."

Evan could sense that Teyla had moved to sit up beside him and now she rose, making her way across the darkened room confidently, as though she had eyes like a cat. She drew back the curtain from the window, which revealed only more darkness, for now, then came to drop down on the sleeping pad on John's other side.

"The tales also teach us that most often the ones we call 'crazy'," she continued, "are merely those who have come to see that the world has changed -as it inevitably will- and that we must discard old truths in favor of new ones."

The two of them now flanked John on the sleeping pad and Evan wished he could see his lover's face. He sat as close as he could, reaching an arm around his waist to encounter Teyla's there as well, coming from the other side.

"Things are changing in our Realms too," Evan said. "John and I, we fought in a war against a people who would stop at nothing to keep their old truths, and some folks are afraid that another, even more terrible is coming, for pretty much the same reason."

"So you are both warriors," Teyla said, considering. "We have had none such in our Realms since before the time of the Second Son, for we have learned the futility of fighting among ourselves, and yet it might be that in losing this way, we have become too accustomed to acquiescing to the wraith. I would know more of this path and, I confess, I find you both... fascinating... and would know you both better, if it would be acceptable?"

If that wasn't a come on, then Evan Lorne didn't know what one was. He wished even more that he could see John's face now, though he could hear him draw a sharp breath.

"Both?" John finally gulped, and Evan had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud.

"Yes, indeed," Teyla said, deadly earnest and utterly innocent. "It would be very impolite of me to express interest in only one of a committed pair, and I do, in fact, find you both quite attractive and quite fascinating."

Evan and John exchanged glances, and realized that they were able to just barely see each other. The window was now a faintly grey square in the dark wall, and even as Evan was noticing this he heard the first festive ululation, signalling the breaking of a new dawn.

Teyla stood with a lithe grace, pulling John and eventually Evan up with her. She crossed to the door and pulled it open, admitting the first pale rays of reflected sunshine, and revealing that she wore... very little. When John and Evan exchanged glances again, there was sufficient light for Evan to see John's longing and uncertainty. Evan answered his look with one of devotion and certainty, willing his lover to believe in himself -in both of them- enough to take this chance.

"I'd be an idiot to say no," John said quietly, as Teyla stepped out onto the threshold, adding her voice to the daily greeting.

"I won't disagree with that, my friend," Evan said, coming to stand at his shoulder.

"This could get us in to so much trouble..." John said next.

"Your point being...?" Evan retorted, and John was silent for a moment as they both gazed at the beautiful, wise and fearless woman, standing on the doorstep before them and singing in the new day.

"Yeah... exactly," John said at last, and the two of them stepped forward to take their new lover into their arms, greeting her lips with theirs in the morning light of a new truth.

****


	11. Chapter Ten: In which Ford's mischief comes to have serious, mostly intended, consequences, and his plans reach their ultimate fruition.

**Chapter 10**

  
** "It would be a mistake to qualify deep ones only as inhuman, rapacious monsters (though they are most certainly all those things) for they can also be said to possess characteristics we may find virtuous seeming.  For one, they are steadfastly loyal and devoted, both to their clans, families and to their Gods.  They might even be said to be selfless in this regard, as a mother wolf will give her ferocious all, without thought, in the cause of protecting her cubs." **

  
_** The Look -An examination of the natural history, habits and culture of Deep Ones   -Dr Calvin Kavanagh ** _

 

~~~~~

 

  


"Tell me again _why_ we are giving up valuable space on the air launch for this... this voodoo practitioner?" Dr McKay griped stridently. "We barely have room for the welding gear, the spare metal stock and _our_ people! And may I remind you that these are vital, _vital_ repairs!"

Dr Weir was quite pleased with her new office on Atlantis, with its windows on one side overlooking the grand upper foyer and control room and those on the other side looking out over the expanse of the city and cavern outside. She was less pleased with how having an office seemed to mean business as usual for some of her scientists. It was Drs McKay and Gaul who stood before her today, and as usual, McKay was doing all the talking.

"Dr McKay," Elizabeth said with fraying patience. "I am no less aware than you of the necessity of these repairs, and I equally aware of the capacity limitations of the air launch. This is why Dr Kavanagh is not going to get the photographic equipment he requested, but will instead be forced to rely on pencil and paper. I have seen for myself, gentlemen, some of the sigils and runes scribed over the tunnel mouth which Dr Kavanagh wishes to study, and I deem them not only potentially of interest for his field, but also possibly of critical importance for our own mission and survival. Dr Kavanagh will be travelling with you to the mirror array, gentlemen, and that's final."

McKay looked as if he wanted to continue to argue the point, but fortunately his colleague knew better. "C'mon McKay," Gaul said with a resigned sigh. "I told you this was a waste of time. Let's go see how Zelenka is doing at stripping down the welding gear."

"It's not like it's even anything like science, what he does," Elizabeth could hear McKay carrying on as he left, and she let herself smile, just a little, once she was sure he wouldn't see. In all fairness, he had a point about the 'scientific' merits of the Esoteric Studies field, but its value to the survival of members of the SPB, now and in the past were unquestionable.

She'd made her own study, as a linguist, of the various runic symbols and signs often found at temples and other sites associated with Elder Beings, and had tried to find some system or order to them, but with no success. It might be that none existed -or at least none that the human mind could grasp- but furthering that knowledge could prove vital, for all who would seek to oppose these horrific beings, and this made the field central to the mission of the SPB, for all that McKay and others like him complained.

She'd been hoping that such knowledge, among other useful things, might be found in the Ancient Ones' repository of knowledge here in the city, but the problem here was an excess of information. Peter had already transcribed dozens of pages for her to review and indicate what more should be studied and transcribed, but how could she make a decision?

There were priorities, of course. Peter had, for a wonder, found a set of schematics for the various mirror arrays -including the hundreds of small arrays in the settlements- a copy of which McKay had now for the furthering of the repairs on the primary array, surrounding the tunnel mouth. He and his team had been working for two days already, and had mostly repaired the damage they'd caused, but an examination of the plans, and further discussions with Teyla and folk from other settlements revealed that time and misfortune had also damaged the array in many other places.

"Honestly, its a good thing we came when we did," McKay had told her the evening before, over dinner. "These people were looking at several possibly catastrophic failures that would have most certainly taken place over the next ten to twenty years. Luckily, I'm fairly sure that we'll be able to fix everything over the next week or so."

"Two weeks," Zelenka, sitting across from them, had suggested.

"Okay, ten days, at the outside," McKay had replied and the debate had gone on from there.

Elizabeth was more pleased than she could say about how well McKay and Zelenka got on these days. Even she could not have predicted how well they would come to work together, though she had always hoped that they would at least find some sort of working partnership. Their growing friendship, and the synergy with which their minds worked was something miraculous to see.

It was McKay's mantle lanterns, and Zelenka's orlubs that were bringing the most revolutionary changes to the people of these realms, as well. They'd distributed both to several of the settlements scattered around the greater cavern -the lanterns to 'patch holes' in the light coverage from the damaged array, and to serve as emergency defense, and the orlubs to create a nearly instant communication system in the greater cavern, for the first time since the Ancient Ones' departure.

Eight of Zelenka's ten 'life sized' mechanical pigeons had been disseminated to eight strategically located settlements, with their navigation algorithms set so that they would fly back to Atlantis. The small cargo compartments in their backs could carry a single sheet of writing paper folded small, and if someone from one settlement wished to send a message to another settlement, the name of the intended destination could be written on the outside of the paper. The designated 'Orlub Wrangler' -Peter Grodin for the moment, but plans were underway to train Sister Constance for the job- could reset the orlub's algorithm for the intended settlement, and they, in turn, could either set the bird to return to its home settlement, or to Atlantis.

It was a highly civilizing improvement, Elizabeth thought with pride, bringing something like a postal system to a place where a more conventional version of the job would be much too dangerous. The danger was twofold: any messenger, going alone or as one of a pair, would be too easy a target for the wraith, even during the daylight hours; and any message carried, either in writing or in the messenger's memory, could be learned or read by the wraith. 

Elizabeth and Sister Constance had independently come up with the idea of teaching the people here to read and write in Latin -a language not dissimilar from the Ancient Ones' tongue, which a few of them knew, but with a different character set from the one the wraith knew. English, unfortunately, was out of the question, as Sumner had known it, and no one was yet sure how much, if any, of his knowledge the Wraith had taken from him.

That was one of the sobering, unanswered questions that plagued Elizabeth these days. Another was who had employed Harry Maybourne to steal the Star's Heart. The man refused to admit to anything, save for repeatedly trying to convince them that Lt Ford had been his confederate, occasionally even claiming that the man was a cultist of some sort. The absurdity of this claim in particular bothered Elizabeth, as it made no sense. She understood why Maybourne wouldn't give up his paymaster, but why make these clearly ridiculous accusations? Unless they were true...

Elizabeth had kept these fears to herself, thinking them only passing whims, but they would not pass. It did not help that the numerous times she had tried, over the past couple of days, to engineer a chance encounter with Ford, the man was mysteriously not present, every time. The whole thing raised her figurative hackles and she had determined to put the question to Sheppard today, at some point. She'd have to pry the man out of Zelenka's flying machine first, however.

Following this thought, Elizabeth stood from her desk and crossed to the windows to see if she could spot the man and his new toy. She was, she confessed, still a little leery about going out in the open, after her terrifying experience of nearly being captured by the wraith, even in what amounted to 'broad daylight' here. She reminded herself that she remained as safe as possible here in the city, even out on the balconies, as Atlantis remained cloaked in light at all times of the day and night. McKay reminded them frequently enough that this could not last forever, but surely it was only a matter of time before they discovered where to place the Star's Heart so that it could power the city again.

Seeing the glimmer from her window of the approaching orlub, Elizabeth pressed herself to continue out onto the balcony. There she found Dr Beckett and Sister Constance, who had just spent her first night on Atlantis, after agreeing to take up residence there along with the rest of the scientists. She had also agreed, at last, to try wearing the Daedalus crew trousers and tunic Novak had lent her. They fit her well enough, Elizabeth thought, but the nun looked as if she was not at all yet used to wearing them.

"Good morning Elizabeth," the two of them greeted her.

"Good morning, Carson, Sister Constance," Elizabeth replied, surprised to see the nun frown slightly at being addressed thus.

"Actually," she said, "I've been thinking that it's time to dispense with 'Sister Constance'. As much as I hate to admit that my brother is right about anything, I really am much freer to pursue my dreams here than I could ever be while I was in orders. It's time for me to give up the habit," she gestured to her new outfit, "and the dopey name. I'm ready to go back to being Miss Jeannie McKay, for good, I think."

"Well congratulations!" Elizabeth said, wondering if the very gentlemanly attentions she noticed coming from Captain Caldwell had played any part in this decision. "I trust I may call you Jeannie?"

"Yes, please!" Jeannie said with a laugh. "Now that I'm done with being 'Sister Constance' I certainly don't need to insist on 'Miss McKay'."

"Oh good," Elizabeth said, and then before she could say anything else she remembered why she had come out to the balcony... as the thing -and people- she come to see loomed suddenly, nearly in their midst.

"Oh!" cried Jeannie as the orlub fluttered up (with an alarmingly large flutter) to perch on the balcony railing. It was Lorne piloting now, with Sheppard in the passenger comportment, so evidently Sheppard had successfully trained his fellow pilot to fly the orlub.

"Great job Major!" Sheppard said, climbing out of his compartment and then reaching up to lend Lorne a hand as he did likewise -somewhat more slowly and carefully. Only a few days after having been caught in a rock fall during his rescue from the wraith, Lorne's ribs had not yet fully recovered.

"My first 'perching' landing," he said with pride when he came to stand on the balcony and greet Elizabeth. "Sheppard's right, though, this thing is a dream to fly."

"Congratulations, Major!" Elizabeth said. "But you must be sure to let Dr Zelenka know what you think of his machine."

"Aye," Carson seconded. "It's like his own wee bairn, that thing is, and I've never seen a prouder papa."

"Well he has just cause," Jeannie said. "It was instrumental in my rescue, and the rescue of my fellow sisters, after all."

There was a momentary pause as Elizabeth could actually see Sheppard biting his tongue and Jeannie had the grace to blush. "Oh, of course, you and my brother were, um, instrumental too, Major."

Sheppard laughed. "We all played our parts, Sister, including you," he said, and Jeannie blushed again.

"As you can see," she said, gesturing at her outfit. "I'm, ah, out of uniform, for good I think, so please, the only person who gets to call me sister any more is Meridith. I'm perfectly pleased to go back to being Jeannie McKay to everyone else."

"Really?" Lorne said, blinking. "That's a pretty big step."

"Well," Jeannie said with an uneasy laugh, "I've taken a lot of 'big steps' lately, so maybe it just seems like one more. I mean, I guess I should feel like it was a hard decision, but it wasn't. When I didn't really believe that there could ever be a place for me in the world like this place or the SPB, it was easy to shut myself away in a convent, but as soon as I realized the possibilities that existed for me here, it was too easy to walk away. I guess that doesn't say much for the sincerity of my devotion."

"Seems to me like you were always devoted," Elizabeth said, "to science, and you expressed that devotion the only way you could. There's no shame in that at all."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," Jeannie said, "but now, if I would be true to my true devotion, I should keep my appointment to meet with Dr Grodin, who's going to show me the ins and outs of the smaller version of this wondrous machine." She gestured to the orlub perched on the railing.

"Indeed," he's waiting for you in the control room," Elizabeth said, pointing to where they could see Peter through the glass partitions of the upper level. "And Captain Sheppard, may I have a private word with you in my office?"

"Sure," he said, suggesting to Lorne that he get additional practice on the orlub and that they would meet for lunch in an hour. Once in Elizabeth's office, he took the seat across from her desk.

"I'm beginning to be concerned about Ford," Elizabeth said without preamble. "I realize that we both thought Maybourne's accusations were ridiculous when he first made them, but the more I think about it, and the more time that goes by with the man apparently avoiding me, the more I'm starting to have doubts."

To Elizabeth's relief, Sheppard did not immediately dismiss her worries. "I know what you mean," he said. "And I've begun to think about how perfect the timing was when he told me he was beginning to suspect Maybourne less than a day before we busted him coming out of your quarters. It's just too... tidy."

Elizabeth relaxed in her chair, but now confronted a whole new set of worries. "Do you think Maybourne could be right about Ford being a cultist?" she asked.

"I've been asking myself the same question," Sheppard said. "But the guy's been pretty scarce around me, too, and that's not doing his case any favors."

"No, it isn't," Elizabeth replied. "I won't tolerate any witch hunts, but we can't have a cultist running around free down here either. God knows what kind of unholy alliance he could try to make with the wraith - _if_ it's true."

"I don't know if the wraith are alliance making types," Sheppard said, "but Ronon told me that there are, evidently, some folks here who more or less worship the wraith as gods -or rightful rulers at least. That sounds pretty much like cultist thinking to me, and if Ford is one himself, he's likely to think something similar."

"So what do we do about it?" Elizabeth asked, hands folded on her desk.

"Well, the guy is supposedly still in the chain of command," Sheppard said. "He has to respond to a direct order, and if he doesn't we can more or less count him as rogue. I'll put out the word among the Marines that he needs to report to either me or Lorne for some new assignment, and I can at least find out who's seen him lately and what he' been doing."

Elizabeth nodded. "Sounds like a plan," she said. "And now that I've got you here, we need to talk about duty schedules and supplies -seeing as you are now the ranking military commander on the expedition."

Indeed, there was nothing Lt Ford could teach John Sheppard about making himself scarce, as he had found ways to avoid this meeting for the last two days. Elizabeth had him now, however, and so he grimaced a bit and then sat forward to get their business done. They were at it for a little over an hour and then it was time for lunch.

Lorne joined them for lunch, as did Peter and Jeannie and Dr Beckett. Elizabeth could see Zelenka and McKay, sitting with a number of the other scientists at an adjacent table, all of them eagerly engaged in some scientific debate with sufficient passion that some the debating was done with mouths still full of food. While an atrocious demonstration of table manners, it was a sign of good spirits among the science staffs, Elizabeth knew, and took satisfaction in it.

On the way back from returning his dishes, Sheppard stepped over to another table, where Stackhouse and Miller sat with a number of other Marines and asked if anyone had seen Ford recently. The general consensus was that he was doing 'ferryman' duty on one of the air launches and might be taking lunch on the Daedalus... but might possibly also be at the Athosian settlement.

Well, that's convenient, Elizabeth thought, as she heard Sheppard tell the men to relay his message that Ford was to report to him or Lorne -whoever he happened across first. She and Sheppard had worked out duty schedules for the job of running the launch, and determined that no one should have to serve more than a five hour shift. The schedule also determined when the shifts should end and where the launches should be docked at shift end, but if Ford never saw that schedule, he would have no way of knowing when and where to leave off. Elizabeth made a note to herself, to have the schedules copied out and posted on the two launches.

After lunch Sheppard and Lorne went off with Zelenka to see about how to permanently affix a mantle lantern to the orlub, Beckett went back to his infirmary with one of the Marines who'd turned an ankle doing something foolish, Jeannie and Peter went back to Peter's new office to work on their establishment of a cavern-wide air postal system and Elizabeth went back to her office to work on her translation of more of the ancient material she'd copied from the IDS. She'd been working for nearly an hour and a half when she heard the first, faint alarms.

The distant tolling of a bell did not come to her as remarkable at first -it being a common sort of sound in the teeming cities where she'd lived most of her life. It was just dawning on her that it was not such a common sound here, when the second unusual noise -a sort of droning horn- intruded on her senses and began to spark her alarm. She left her work on her desk and hurried out to the balcony.

Sgt Bates was there, as were McKay and Sheppard, who'd been working in the control room.

"What the hell?" Sheppard asked as more bells and alarms could be heard from some of the distant, and higher settlements.

"I'm not thinking it's anything good, sir," Bates commented. Elizabeth was forced to agree.

She tried to fathom where the most of the sounds were coming from, and ended up peering up towards a distant corner of the cavern, more or less, she thought, where Sheppard's rescue party had gone to access the wraith nest. As she stared she saw something that looked, inexplicably, like a falling star, and evidently she wasn't the only one.

"Is that...?" McKay began and Sheppard answered him before he could finish his question.

"One of our flares, yes" he said. They'd distributed flares, along with mantle lanterns, in some of the more remote settlements, to serve as both defensive 'weapons' and distress signals. This one had been evidently thrown out into the main cavern from a considerable height in the cavern, and it fell for some time, allowing all who watched it to trace the trajectory back to its origin.

"That came from the Alteinian settlement, or I'll eat my hat," Sheppard said.

"That's the high one, up by where Jinto showed us the tunnel into wraith territory?" inquired McKay.

"You think they're under attack, sir?" Bates asked.

"I can't think of what else it might be," Sheppard said, brow furrowed as he extracted a folding telescope from his vest pocket. "But I can't understand why they're attacking now, in broad daylight... unless... oh crap, Ford!"

"Captain?" Elizabeth said with growing alarm.

"I let him cover our retreat," Sheppard said angrily. "I told him to make sure no wraith lived to see where we'd gone... I trusted him..."

"You had no way of knowing," Elizabeth said, even as she saw him shake his head.

"Moot point now," he said bitterly. "Now we're gonna need to do a lot of damage control."

"We going to help them?" Bates asked, clearly keen to do just that.

"We won't be able to get men up there fast enough on foot," McKay said, frowning as Sheppard peered through his spyglass.

"And the Daedalus won't be ready to take to the air until tomorrow morning at the earliest," Sheppard said, gaze still focused on the distant scene. "We need to recall the launches; have them come to Atlantis and pick up men armed with muskets and coach guns, but I don't know if they'll be fast enough either."

Elizabeth frowned, thinking that they hadn't yet decided on a signal for recalling the launches and regretting it deeply. Of course there was something faster than the launches, but before she could say a word, it presented itself.

"Way to go, Evan," Sheppard muttered as they all saw the orlub, Lorne in the pilot's seat, climbing through the air towards the very balcony where they stood. Sheppard collapsed his spyglass and turned to Bates.

"Sargent," he ordered. "Go find the flare gun in my office and fire a very-light off this balcony. It's not a prearranged signal but hopefully whoever is piloting the launches will buy a clue. When they arrive, put the first five volunteers -one pilot, four gunmen- you can find in it with loads of ammunition. You can start assembling crews as soon as you get send the signal."

"Yes sir," Bates replied and raced off to comply.

"I'm gonna grab a couple of pieces from the armory," Sheppard called out to Lorne as the orlub came to perch on the balcony rail again.

"Coach gun will do you more good than a musket, Sheppard!" McKay called after him as he dashed off.

"What do you think you can do, Major?" Elizabeth asked as Lorne moved himself from the pilot's seat to the back.

"Take out as many as we can," he answered. "And track their movements. We can probably provide cover for the launches when they get out there too."

Elizabeth nodded tightly, trusting her military people to do their jobs, as uneasy as it made her. Sheppard came pelting back onto the balcony a moment later, several firearms and a box of ammunition in his arms. These he handed to Lorne before leaping into the pilot's seat and belting himself in.

"Lemme know when you're stowed and secured, Major," Sheppard said and as soon as Lorne did Sheppard brought the orlub to life. Elizabeth and McKay both stepped back as the avian flying machine reversed itself on the balcony rail and crouched, readying for takeoff.

"Godspeed, gentlemen," Elizabeth called and then the orlub launched itself into the air. Lorne gave a whoop as the machine took wing and began to climb toward the distant settlement, and Elizabeth heard an answering shout from some of the Marines gathering on the landing bays at the tower's base. One of the launches, Elizabeth noted, was already coming in to pick them up.

"I'd better go get Zelenka and head down to the chair room where the light weapon controls are," said McKay, heading down the stairs.

Elizabeth followed him, feeling unsure as to what she could do for now. She watched as Bates came up on the lift, racing past McKay on his way down, and then past her, up the stairs toward the balcony. A moment later she heard the soft report of the very pistol from outside. She supposed that staying where people could easily find her would be the most sensible course, and so found herself climbing slowly back up the stairs toward the control room just as Bates came running back down.

"Let me keep that up in the control room, Sergent" she said, catching him as they passed and indicating the very pistol. "If I see anything change out there, or in case of any other emergency..."

"Sure thing, ma'am," Bates replied, laying the pistol in her hands and then extracting a couple of spare rounds from his pocket. "That's probably a good idea."

Elizabeth tucked the snub nosed pistol into her expedition jacket, and dropped the flares into her pocket as she watched Bates disappear. She paused at the top of the stairs, glancing about the empty control room and through the transparent walls into her office. There was work she might do there, but for the moment she didn't think she had the concentration for it. Instead she strolled back toward the balcony, doubting that she would be able to see anything, but curious nonetheless.

The flare which Bates had fired a moment ago still hung from its parachute in the center of the cavern, a strange red star slowly descending through the fractured sun beams cast by the mirror array. Alarm bells could still be heard ringing in the distance, but Elizabeth could see no other sign of the conflict supposedly taking place in the far upper reaches of the cavern. She turned to make her way back to her office when she realized that someone was now standing at the balcony door.

"Dr Weir," said Lt Ford with a disarming smile that utterly failed to set Elizabeth at ease.

"Lieutenant," Elizabeth said, trying, on her part, for welcoming, though she wasn't at all sure she had succeeded either. "It's good to see you. We've been looking for you."

"Well now you've found me," Ford said, still smiling. The grin that had seemed light hearted and puppyish only a few days ago now seemed slightly disturbing somehow. "Listen," he continued earnestly. "Before you tell me about that, there's something I need you to see. It's this way." He gestured for her to follow, taking a few steps back towards the stairs, as if he had every reason to expect her to go with him.

"Lieutenant," Elizabeth said. "I need to stay here for now, and you need to take your air launch to the base of the tower and pick up the men Bates has organized. We have reason to believe there's a wraith incursion near the Alteinian settlement..."

"Yeah, I know," Ford said dismissively. "But that's not important. What's important is that you really need to come with me now."

"Why do I need to come with you, Lieutenant?" Elizabeth asked with growing awareness that she was in trouble. There was something so very clearly wrong about Ford, she wondered how she'd missed it, or how he'd kept his nature hidden so well.

"You need to come with me," Ford answered, his voice suddenly, shockingly dead cold, and a pistol suddenly in his hand, "because if you don't I'll shoot you, and I won't kill you."

Elizabeth felt the blood drain from her face, even as her thoughts sharpened and began to calculate. Elizabeth Weir was no soldier or fighter, but she hadn't exactly lead a sheltered life either. She would not panic. "Lieutenant," she said, her own voice possibly a notch colder than Ford's now. "What do you think you're doing?" There was nearly always, Elizabeth knew from long experience, a benefit to playing for time.

"What am I doing?" Ford replied, the pistol he directed at her steady as a rock. "I'm doing what I truly came here to do: serving _my_ people. I'll have your stolen artifact for them, and I will bring them these Realms, to rule and plunder as they are entitled to. Father Dagon and Mother Hydra must rule _all_ seas, below the Earth as well as on it!"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Elizabeth saw it. Ford was young yet, but even so he was beginning to develop the first hints of The Look. It was evident in how his eyes were just a little too wide, how his forehead sloped back at a not-quite-human angle. Elizabeth shook her head in dismay at how she'd missed all the signs, and let the anger she felt at herself fill her words.

"The Star's Heart no more belongs to the Deep Ones than it belongs to me, you fool!" she retorted. "It belongs to Atlantis and her children, and only they will be able to wield its power. It will be nothing but a useless ornament to your people, as you know perfectly well!"

"The Ancient Ones are dust," Ford replied with contempt. "Their city is sea trove now and therefore rightfully ours. If the Ancient Ones' children would walk its corridors again, they would do well to acknowledge their masters." He gestured meaningfully with the gun now, meeting Elizabeth's gaze coldly.

"You need to acknowledge your master as well, Dr Weir," he continued. "I have a gun and am prepared to use it, if you do not do as I say this minute."

Mouth firmed into an unhappy line, Elizabeth complied, striding past the rogue soldier haughtily. He had no idea about the very pistol, she reminded herself, and though it would not do her any good just now, there could well come an opportunity to make good use of it. She would keep her wits about her and await her chance.

***

Atlantis was a miracle. Less than forty eight hours after having officially forsworn her vows, Jeannie McKay could still not think of any better word to describe the city she'd come to live in and work on. She was not unaware of the irony of finding her life full of miracles, now that she'd given her life over to the non-miraculous field of science but then, she reflected, her brother would be quick to remind her that what seemed miraculous to her was surly nothing out of the ordinary to those who had created this place.

Indeed, Zelenka's flying machine still seemed a marvel to her and she knew full well that every brass 'feather' had been engineered with purpose. It functioned exactly as Zelenka had intended it, and yet the machine's creator still seemed to take great delight in its functioning. He'd been waiting with her on the balcony as Sheppard and Lorne arrived to announce the successful suppression of the wraith's attempted incursion, and the childlike joy on his face as he watched his flying machine come in to land before them was a pleasure to see.

The news the two men had brought left a smile on her face too, especially when she'd learned that not only had all their own forces escaped capture, they'd prevented the wraith from taking even one of the local folk. It was an unprecedented triumph in the history of the civilization here, but Sheppard showed great wisdom, Jeannie thought, in taking this victory cautiously.

"The wraith aren't going to just sit up in their nests and starve." he'd said as they gathered for the meeting he'd called soon after his return. "Now that they know their days of easy pickings are over they're going to start planning something new, and we need to be ready for it."

Jeannie thought it a likely assessment and wondered what preparations they might make. Was there a possibility that the mysterious artifact -the Star's Heart- which Dr Weir had revealed to them a few nights ago might prove useful? She'd hinted that it was a source of energy, potentially capable of powering the city, but powering it to do what? Perhaps the time had come, Jeannie considered, for Dr Weir to share more of what she knew, and perhaps she would, whenever she eventually turned up for this meeting.

They had been waiting for her to arrive before they started the meeting, and now it seemed they were waiting for her to be found, as everyone who had promised to let Dr Weir know about the meeting when they came across her had returned to say that she hadn't been where they'd thought to find her. Finally, Peter Grodin had been sent to check her quarters and as they waited in the conference room -Jeannie, her brother, Dr Beckett, Sheppard Lorne and Zelenka- Jeannie could feel a new worry slowly rising among them. What had happened to Dr Weir?

The expression on Peter's face when he reappeared in the conference room, alone, gave the initial bad news away before he even had to speak.

"She's not there." Sheppard said for him.

"She's not," Peter confirmed, "and neither is the Star's Heart. There's no sign of any violence, but..."

"But that doesn't really mean anything good at all," Sheppard finished for him. "And I don't suppose anyone had seen Ford?"

"No sir," Lorne said. "I've asked the Marines, and they all know we're on the lookout for him. No one's seen him, and no one's seen the other air launch either -not since before yesterday."

"This is very bad," Meridith said into the silence that followed. As glaringly obvious as that was, no one seemed to have the heart to point that out just now.

"Right," Sheppard said with a sigh after another long, uncomfortable moment. "So we're going to need to organise a search, but we're not going to leave any more of our critical assets unguarded either, _and_ we need to keep working on a strengthening our defenses against a possible full-on assault from the wraith. That looks to me like three priorities of pretty much equal importance. Unless anyone's got anything else to add?"

The answer to that was, thankfully, no, and so they then began to work out how their three goals might be managed. Naturally, everyone wanted to join in the search for Dr Weir, including Jeannie, but she ended up assigned between her brother and his task of managing the city's defences, and the 'orlub postal service' which she'd been learning how to run from Peter.

He, along with Sgt Bates would be heading up the search for Dr Weir, and they would have a combination of scientists and Marines helping them, along with some of the crew of the Daedalus, if Caldwell consented. Jeannie was sure he would, as the repairs to the Daedalus were nearly completed, and a number of his crew would have little to do now. Besides, Jeannie could not help thinking, he was such a gentleman.

They had also decided, in the course of the meeting, that the control room, the chair room, the labs and armory and the remaining air launch, along with the orlub, were to be considered strategic assets, and were never to be left unguarded or unattended. In addition, it was determined that none of the civilian personnel should be allowed to go anywhere alone.

"I blame myself, for not thinking about that earlier," Sheppard said, "when I was talking to Dr Wier and we both knew by then that Ford was... a liability. If I'd made sure she was never alone..."

"Then you might have just signed a death warrant for whoever you sent to guard her," Lorne pointed out. "If Ford really is a cultist then human lives mean nothing to him, and he's only keeping Weir alive because she's more use to him as a hostage. Second guessing ourselves at this point does no one any good, right?"

Jeannie could see how reluctant Sheppard was to admit to this point, though she could also see how Lorne would not accept anything less. Jeannie was impressed at how well Sheppard seemed to stepped into the role of military leader, but it was also clear how the responsibilities of leadership weighed heavily on him. As she watched, Lorne moved his hand from the table top to rest on Sheppard's shoulder, and gradually the shadows retreated from his gaze.

After the meeting Jeannie went to the control room with Mer and Zelenka, to help them work out presets for the light gathering part of the 'light weapon' -directing it either toward the main mirror array, or towards the Daedalus and its mantle chandelier. After that it was dinner time and she went with them, mindful of their orders not to travel alone. The mood in the dinning hall was subdued, as everyone had heard, by now, of Dr Weir's presumed abduction.

Jeannie and the two scientists came to sit at a table with Carson Beckett and Peter Grodin, both of whom picked at their dinners in morose silence. At a nearby table Jeannie saw Sheppard and Lone sitting together with Teyla. Sheppard had only a cup of coffee in front of where he sat and Jeannie could see how everything weighed on him, heavier than ever.

"When did Teyla come?" she asked.

"Just after lunch," Peter answered her. "She came as soon as she got the news we sent her by 'orlub post', and she brought a dozen Athosians with her to help in the search."

"That's wonderful," Jeannie said. "I bet they're helping a lot."

"Well, we've certainly been able to cover more ground," Peter replied. "I just wish we had more to show for it. We don't even know whether she's in the city or out somewhere in the cavern. It was hours before we knew she was missing, and Ford could have taken her any number of places."

"That is true," Zelenka commented from down the table. "But he took Elizabeth for a reason, and that reason is that there is still only one way out of here, and he must cross directly in front of the city, and the Daedalus to get there. I would respectfully suggest that you need not worry so much about where she is now, but think instead about where she will inevitably be taken."

"Aye, the man's got a point!" said Carson Beckett, looking slightly less despairing than he had a moment ago. "If he's got the 'Star thingee' -which one presumes he wants to offer up to his Elder God patrons- he still needs to take it to them somehow, and there's only one way he knows."

"We hope," Mer said darkly. "We know Elizabeth's grandfather, Arne Saknussem, came here by foot, by way of various cave networks. What if Ford thinks she knows the way he took? What if she really does know? Ford could force her to show him an alternative path to the surface."

Peter Grodin frowned in thought. "Does anyone remember if Ford was there when Teyla told her story about the Star's Heart?" he said. "If he was, then he'll definitely know that an alternative route exists, but if he wasn't..."

"I'm afraid I don't have such clear memories of the later part of that evening," Zelenka said, chagrined.

"I... don't remember seeing him there," Peter said thoughtfully. "But Sheppard will have a better idea, and I should tell him your theory, anyhow."

Jeannie watched Peter take his half eaten meal to the dish washers, then cross to chat briefly with Sheppard. Carson watched him too, worry shadowing his gaze.

"I'd say the lad should eat something, but I'd have to take my own advice, first," he said with a sad half smile. Jeannie could not help leaning forward to place her hand over his.

"I'm pretty sure Zelenka's got it right, Carson," she said. "And that means Elizabeth's all right for now, but she'll need us to be on our toes later. She needs you both to take care of yourselves, so you'll be ready for when the time comes to act."

"Och, you've got the right of it, lass," Carson said, addressing his meal with an air of determination. "There's no arguing with it."

"I'm glad you think so," Jeannie said, rising and gathering her own empty dishes. "As I'm going to go try the same argument on Sheppard. Wish me luck."

Both Carson and Zelenka did so, and Jeannie took her dishes and crossed to the table where Sheppard sat with Lorne and Teyla. Peter Grodin had just left, and did not seem, Jeannie noted, to have the attitude of a man who'd just had more bad news.

"So Ford didn't hear Teyla's story?" Jeannie asked after she had greeted the table.

"Not unless he's got super cultist hearing," Sheppard answered. "He asked for the duty of keeping watch on the launches, and I let him. I don't think he's very comfortable in the settlement."

"That would likely be because of the many signs of protection we use everywhere in our settlement," Teyla said. "If he is allied with such beings as the wraith and their worshippers, the signs will be... disturbing to him, at the very least. They may even be painful."

"Hm," Sheppard mused. "Maybe we ought to do the same on the Daedalus. I'll get Dr Kavanagh on it."

"I would most definitely recommend it," Teyla said earnestly.

"Captain Sheppard," Jeannie put in now. "I was wondering if I couldn't go and fetch you some dinner. As I was speaking to Dr Beckett just now and he happened to notice that you hadn't eaten. He asked me to convey to you the importance of regular meals, in particular when one is in a high stress situation."

Sheppard looked as if he wanted to beg off, but his two table companions weren't going to let him. "Come on, Captain," Lorne said. "You know she's right, especially if we're just going to have to wait for Ford to make his move for now." Teyla nodded solemnly in agreement.

"Alright, fine," Sheppard said, with shocking petulance for a grown man. "Go and get me a bowl of stew and bread -just not too much."

"Perhaps a piece of fruit as well?" Jeannie made a suggestions that was not really a suggestion at all.

"Yes, yes," the military commander of the expedition agreed, like nothing so much as a surly teenager. No wonder he got along with her brother, Jeannie thought with a smirk as she went to get Sheppard's dinner.

After dinner, Dr Beckett walked her back to her quarters, which were next to his, and reminded her that she wasn't to go off alone.

"But ye musn't hesitate to give a knock here on my door," he offered. "Any time you might need to go out for any reason. I promise I won't mind."

Jeannie thanked him, and bid him good night. Stepping into her room, it took her a moment to recall how to activate the lights, and when she did it took another moment to get used to the idea, once again, that this was all her own private space. Sharing the tiny, cramped cabin on the Daedalus with Dr Weir had actually been easier to get used to, as it was not so very unlike her living arrangement in the convent. This little apartment, which consisted only of a bed and sitting room -one corner of which could serve as a work area- and a private toilet, sink and shower, was so much more than she had for herself in decades -it seemed a bit... decadent.

She knew full well that most people would find such arrangements decidedly spartan, but Jeannie considered it a nice, gradual step towards a more 'normal' life. She was already looking forward to finding things with which to decorate the plain walls and floors, and Teyla had started her toward that goal with a gift of a colorful, hand woven blanket for her bed.

Jeannie supposed that there were harder things to get used to than a private shower with plenty of warm water, and settling in to sleep in a soft, comfortable bed in a room all her own. It was not such a difficult thing, either, that being able to dim the lights in her room with no more than a touch on the panel over her bed still made her smile every time she did it. Smiling with delight at the pleasant novelties of her new life, Jeannie drifted off to sleep with little difficulty, in spite of the unfamiliar surroundings.

She woke early, as always, also in spite of the unfamiliar surroundings. When she'd made the decision to leave her life as a nun behind, Jeannie had promised herself that she could keep any of the routines and habits from those days that continued to give her comfort. One of these was rising a little before dawn and praying the rosary.

She'd always been an early riser (unlike poor Mer) and liked the simple, meditative ritual of the sequence of prayers. Truth be told, she'd come to use those sequences as mnemonic devices for various algorithms and mathematical structures many years ago, and these days the pre-breakfast ritual helped prepare her mind for whatever scientific task she had set herself for the day.

Jeannie had found that the little balcony which let off of her rooms was the perfect place for this activity. It faced away from the Daedalus, and from it Jeannie could gaze into the 'star' lit depths of the main cavern as she moved through the ritual. Her gaze was on the distant view, but a bright flash of light from somewhere close drew and focused her gaze instantly, and interrupted her prayers.

A streak of light was rising from about halfway up one of the towers on the pier adjacent to this one -the second or perhaps third from the center. It rose to reach an apex some distance above the city, and then hung in the air for a moment and began its slow decent. Living on a tiny island in a sea frequented by fisher folk, Jeannie knew a distress flare when she saw one, and could only think of one reason that such a thing would be fired somewhere other than the central tower.

If these circumstances weren't enough to confirm this theory, however, what happened next seemed to assure it. The pistol reports, at such a distance, sounded like little more than faint pops, but on the third the suspended very light jerked and on the fourth it was extinguished. The narrative seemed inescapable: Elizabeth had tried to use the flare to summon help, and Ford had shot it down.

For a long moment Jeannie pondered over what to do. Her first impulse was to find the tower where Elizabeth was being held. She had no intention of confronting Ford, but she could at least confirm their location. Carson, no doubt, would prefer her to enlist his help, but he would need a moment or two to dress and in that time Ford could have Elizabeth on the air launch and relocate. Jeannie dared not take her eye off that tower for more than a few seconds, and if she did keep her eye on it, then Ford couldn't catch her unawares, could he?

In the urgency of the moment, this made the most sense to Jeannie. Giving the tower where she'd seen the flare launched one last look, she catalogued its architectural features so she would be able to identify it from a different angle. Then she darted back through her quarters and out into the long windowed corridor. The tower in question was just visible from here, and Jeannie made her way along the corridor quickly and silently.

Distances in the city of the Ancient Ones are deceiving, however, and before long Jeannie found herself wondering if that tower wasn't a lot further away than she'd initially thought. She was also beginning to worry that Ford really ought to be moving, and that she ought to have seen the air launch somewhere by now, and the fact that she hadn't was troubling.

She stepped out onto a balcony that would give her a better view of the tower she was heading toward, and saw that it seemed nearly as far away from here as it had from her quarters. Maybe she should go back and get Carson, she thought, but just as she turned to head back into the corridor she saw a figure striding along it, coming towards her.

"Sister Constance," Ford said, tone cheerful and yet unmistakably menacing. "What are you doing out here?"

 _You are such an idiot!_ she berated herself, then focused. She had one chance to leave a message, of sorts, if she kept her head. Her rosary was still gripped fast in her right hand and both her hands were behind her, gripping the balcony railing as she turned to face Ford.

"Nothing?" she answered feebly as she tried to back away further and just ended up sitting on the bench by the rail. "Just... a morning walk?"

"All by yourself? In a city that's been abandoned for thousands of years?" Ford said. "Don't you think that could be a little dangerous? Or do you believe your lame-ass 'god' is going to protect you?"

Ford's tone changed suddenly from nearly obsequious to outright menacing and Jeannie shrank back, surreptitiously dropping the rosary onto the bench behind her. "Please don't hurt me?" she begged, not having to act at all.

"Oh don't you worry your holy little head," Ford sneered. "I'm not going to touch you. I'm not even going to 'sully your virtue'. I've got better things to do. The wraith, though, I figure I can hand you over to them when I'm done with you, and you might not like what they do to you. Maybe your feeble old man of a god can help you then."

"Please, Lieutenant, I beg you," Jeannie cried, holding her hands out front in supplication. "I'll do anything you want, just don't give me to the wraith... they take your soul!"

 _I'll make any kind of a scene you want,_ she thought to herself, _just don't notice the rosary I left on the bench..._

"Oh, shut up, you stupid cow," Ford snarled, grabbing her hands and jerking her up from the bench. His grip on her wrists was like iron. "All you have to do is sit your ass in the launch while I sail past the Daedalus. I'll probably just throw both your worthless carcasses out of the launch as soon as I get to the tunnel entrance. Now quite whining and come with me."

Ford didn't even look back as he dragged Jeannie down the corridor, and she didn't look back either, but the rosary was there, sitting on the bench. Jeannie didn't know what they'd be able to learn from it, when and if Sheppard and the others found it, but it was all she could manage for now. She hoped, she even prayed, that it would be enough to save her and Elizabeth both.

***

"Of course it's Jeannie's! Who else on this expedition would carry a rosary, for god's sake. Where did you find it? Oh my god, Ford has her doesn't he? How did he get her? What does he want with her?"

"McKay!" Sheppard's sharp cry shocked Rodney out of his litany of panic, but it assured him not one bit.

"Rodney," Zelenka's softer but more urgent tone drew his focus, at least, and his hand on Rodney's shoulder did calm him just a bit.

"The same thing holds true for your sister as for Dr Weir," he said. "Ford needs them both alive and unharmed as hostages, and the time that he must show himself, and them, will come soon."

Heads around the table nodded. That was Sheppard, Teyla, Lorne, Beckett, Grodin and Ronon, who'd come over with Teyla's searchers. They were all in the dinning hall, which was where Beckett had found them at breakfast an hour ago, to ask if anyone had seen Jeannie that morning. They'd sent out searchers almost immediately, and all they'd found was her rosary on a balcony two towers over from the residential area. Amid a storm of other feelings, Rodney found himself torn between guilt for bringing his sister here, and fury at her for wandering off on her own.

"According to these timetables Dr Scott and the meteorologists team have calculated," Grodin said, "the updraft in the tunnel to the surface should start in about twenty minutes. It will last for a little over four hours, but Ford will need to get there near the beginning if he wants to make it all the way to the surface in an air launch that's only powered by sculling sails."

"That means we need to be ready to act soon," Sheppard said. "Lorne, I want a team of your best shots in the launch and ready to go in ten minutes, but I want you to keep out of sight. I've got a plan but I need to take the orlub over to the Daedalus and confer with Captain Caldwell first. Ford doesn't know for sure that the Daedalus is ready to take the air yet, and I want to surprise him. I want him to think he's going to get a free ride and then nail his ass, hard."

"I'm all on board with that, Captain," Lorne said. "I'll go and find my crack shots."

Sheppard nodded and Lorne headed off. At least they still had one air launch and the orlub, McKay thought, along with the Daedalus. Ordinarily he would assume Ford didn't have a chance, but Rodney couldn't assume that Ford was completely stupid -not with Jeannie and Elizabeth's life at risk. He must have some plan of his own, but what could it be?

"McKay, I know you want to help," Sheppard said to him now, "but honestly, we need you and Zelenka to keep working on our defences. Ford used the wraith attack on the upper settlements as a distraction to kidnap Dr Weir, and I'm worried that the wraith will use Ford's shenanigans as a cover for a massed attack on the city. We can't let them catch us with our pants down."

Rodney gave the man a hard, belligerent look, then backed down, because he did have an inescapable point. "Alright, fine," he said with as little grace as possible. "Come on Zelenka, we need to trace down those power circuits, so when we get the Star's Heart we know where to plug it in."

This task required that they be working from the chair room, for now, and Rodney would swear that it was just a coincidence that its wide windows looked out directly onto the tunnel entrance and mirror array. Coincidence or not, Rodney would have to admit that he was not getting a lot of work done, as he found himself glancing toward those windows every few minutes or so. He finally gave it up for a lost cause when he realized that he had traced the same section of circuit three times.

"Dammit," he said, going to stand by the window. "I should be doing _something_. Shouldn't I be doing something? I mean, it's my sister..."

"What you _shouldn't_ be doing, Rodney, is something reckless and foolhardy," Radek said, coming to stand at his side. "We are fortunate to have experts to call upon in this situation, and we need to let them do their jobs. We do have our own jobs, which will be just as vital to Jeannie's well being in the future as the current efforts are now, yes?"

"Yes, yes, that all makes logical sense," Rodney groused. "But... and I never thought I'd ever hear myself say this... it's not enough. I... I feel like..."

"You worry for her?" Radek said, laying an arm over his shoulder. "Is not such a shocking thing that you worry for your sister, I don't think. Come, we sit vigil, as it is clear there will be no more useful work from you till this is resolved."

Rodney let Radek guide him out to the balcony to sit on the bench there, then drew his watch out to check the time.

"The updraft should be starting about now," Rodney said. Radek nodded.

"He will very likely make his move soon," he said.

"Unless he decides to delay for a day or two," Rodney said glumly. "In case we let our guard down."

"Hm... It's possible," Radek said, "but I don't think it's likely. His hostages need food and water, for one thing, and..." Radek trailed off suddenly, and Rodney followed his gaze.

"Oh my god, there they are!" Rodney hissed, standing and moving toward the edge of the balcony.

The launch, with its pilot and two 'passengers', was moving at a fair clip as it appeared suddenly from within the depths of the city -Ford pulling hard at the 'oars' which operated the sculling sails and propelled the launch forward. He soon left off, as the launch's inertia would continue to carry it forward in the windless cavern, and he would most certainly need his hands free shortly. With the Daedalus still keel down in the sea and no other signs of opposition, it must seem to Ford that he had a clear shot, but Rodney was nearly sure he would not be fooled.

Sure enough, the moment the orlub appeared, Ford's pistol was in his hand, aimed at the two women, both evidently bound, in some manner, to the bow of the launch. Rodney felt his heart in his throat and clutched at the balcony rail with agonized helplessness. At the orlub's controls, Sheppard was undaunted, literally flying circles around Ford's launch and impeding his progress toward the tunnel entrance.

Now Rodney heard the crack of a rifle shot, which hadn't come from the launch, or from the orlub. It was Radek who spotted the source first, grabbing Rodney's arm to draw his attention.

"It's Lorne!" he cried. "There, coming from below -Ford did not even see him!"

"Careful!" Rodney muttered uneasily as another shot rang out and Ford pulled hard on the tiller, causing the launch to come about suddenly. The orlub swooped to block them, but Ford had another trick up his sleeve.

Rodney gave a cry of alarm as he saw the flash of a knife in Ford's hand, but Ford brought it down not on either of his hostages, but in the place where they were tied. Rodney saw Jeannie's hands come free, though still apparently bound behind her back, and then with shocking suddenness, Ford shoved her hard, out of the launch.

She screamed as she fell, and Rodney nearly went over the balcony after her, only Radek's hard grip on his vest bringing him to his sense.

"Can she not swim, Rodney?" Radek asked urgently. "If she can, then she is out of harm's way now."

"I have no idea!" wailed Rodney. "And her hands are tied! Who can swim with their hands tied?"

Before Radek could answer, the last, most powerful player entered the fray, as the Daedalus lifted herself suddenly from the surface of the sea. Engines roaring, she moved swiftly to put herself between Ford and the tunnel entrance, and Rodney's gaze darted anxiously between this glorious spectacle and the place where Jeannie had disappeared into the water below.

"Ježiší Marija!" Radek cried out beside him suddenly, but Rodney could not look away from the water now, every second that Jeannie remained below the surface agonizing.

"Oh thank god!" he nearly sobbed when he saw her head emerge, shaking itself free of the water, and then Radek was calling his name, grabbing his arm forcefully.

"It's Caldwell!" Radek said now and Rodney finally spotted what gotten Radek's attention. There was a figure perched _on_ the Daedalus rail amidships, directly above where Jeannie struggled to keep her head above the waves. He had apparently just handed his jacket to one of the crewmen on the deck and then he turned and, before Rodney's astonished eyes, leaped over the side. The brief gleam on the sun on the diver's bald pate confirmed the identity Radek had given him and Rodney followed him with his eyes as the Daedalus' captain executed a perfect dive, plunging into the sea only a few yards from Jeannie.

Speechless with relief, Rodney watched Caldwell stroke expertly over to his sister once he had surfaced, cutting her hands free in a moment and guiding her to put her arms around his waist.

"She's safe," Rodney murmured. "Oh thank god she's safe... and god, I'm going to owe Caldwell for the rest of his life."

"He is an honorable man," Radek said, his hand on Rodney's shoulder drawing him closer. "I think he may actually have honorable intentions toward your sister."

Rodney glanced sharply at Radek, wide eyed, but was interrupted from pursuing this disturbing allegation by the continuing action before them. Sheppard had signalled Lorne to bring his launch down to pick up Caldwell and Jeannie, which took them out of the action, just as Ford had probably planned, but now the Daedalus had sailed across to block Ford's way. Ford had been forced to make another sharp turn, to avoid colliding with the Daedalus, and the maneuver had cost him yet more velocity, lifting Rodney's hopes that their efforts would succeed.

Sheppard still had the orlub hounding Ford's heels, passing close by again and again as the launch moved to pass around behind the Daedalus' stern.

"What's he doing?" Rodney asked, thinking out loud. "Is he... shouting something at Ford?"

"I think he may be," Radek confirmed, "but also, I think he may be trying to force him down."

"Of course... oh crap!" Rodney winced as the orlub narrowly averted clipping one of the stays connecting the launch and its lift vessel. "Sheppard you idiot, you're not going to help anyone if you get yourself killed!"

"Do prdele!" Radek shouted now. "The wind, it is helping Ford! That is his plan all along!"

Rodney saw what Radek was talking about -how the updraft was pulling the stern of the Daedalus out of Ford's way, while adding to his own velocity. Then his eyes were suddenly drawn to an entirely different part of the cavern. "Oh holy shit!" Rodney said. "We've got even bigger problems!"

"What?" squawked Radek, and then he saw what Rodney did: a pale swarm of wraith making their way along the shadowed walls directly above the tunnel, headed right toward them.

"Crap, we need to get the light weapon up!" Rodney snapped, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the fray outside. He turned to dash inside along with Radek but then Radek's hand stayed him.

"Only one is needed to target weapon," he reminded Rodney. "But I will need spotter. You must stay here and tell me where to aim weapon, yes?"

"Yes, yes!" Rodney agreed enthusiastically, then grabbed hold of Radek's hand before he could disappear. "Thanks, Radek," he said.

"Ne... no need for thanks," Radek said, coloring slightly before he darted in to find the controls.

Attention returned to the action outside, Rodney saw that Lorne's launch had picked up Jeannie and Caldwell and was lifting again to pursue Ford. Rodney argued with himself for a moment over whether he would have preferred that they take Jeannie back to the Daedalus, or to Atlantis or the mainland, before jumping back into the fight, but then came to the conclusion that they were needed in the fight, and that Jeannie was still mostly safe where she was.

Sheppard... and who was that with him in the orlub's passenger seat -Beckett?- was having a devil of a time keeping Ford away from his goal, and Lorne was going to have to really pick up his speed if he was going to be any use. Then Rodney saw that whoever was in command on the Daedalus -Sailing Master Campbell, possibly- was more on the ball than he'd expected, as she now fired a full broadside at the approaching wraith.

This had two effects. The first, as expected, was to punch a big hole in the swarm of wraith, but the second, which was likely unintended, but just as fortunate, was to push the Daedalus, rather forcefully and suddenly, back in front of the tunnel entrance. Once again Ford had to make a sudden course correction, against the wind now. His launch ended up headed directly for the lower edge of the tunnel, and didn't seem to be quite in Ford's control. Of course, the updraft would be getting stronger, Rodney realized, the closer to the tunnel he got, and keeping control of his craft would be more difficult.

"Nazdaar!" Rodney now heard Radek call from inside the chair room, and light bloomed above them. It was still aimed at the back of the cavern, where Radek had used the projected light beam to help them escape the wraith hive, and Rodney scanned the distance and relative angle of their new target before calling out to Radek.

"Track it about eighty degrees clockwise and down range maybe five degrees," he called from the balcony door. Radek repeated Rodney's numbers and then Rodney went back out to watch where the beam moved to. That was when he realized that the Daedalus was blocking large chunks of the source light from the mirror array, some of which Atlantis was using for the source of the light weapon.

"Crap! Get out of the way!" Rodney shouted and gestured ineffectually. By sailing as close to the mirror array as she was, the Daedalus and her enormous, silvery lift vessel was blocking and deflecting a disproportionate amount of light, although at the moment, some of it was being reflected onto a number of the wraith. They scattered, skittering over the cavern walls like albino cockroaches -some heading for the upper portions of the mirror array.

"What's going on?" Radek called from inside. "Is it on target? Is it working?"

The Daedalus fired again, throwing reflected light randomly around the cavern.

"It's complicated," Rodney said, and shouted with relief as it appeared that someone on the Daedalus finally figured out that they needed to get out from in front of the mirror array. The airship pivoted (the beam strut engines working perfectly, Rodney saw with satisfaction) and sailed across to assault the upper left edge of the mirror array from the left, well away from the array's beams of light. The light from Atlantis now struck the cavern ceiling above where the Daedalus hung.

"Okay, that's perfect!" Rodney called back to Radek, already shifting his focus to Elizabeth's plight. Of course, now that the Daedalus had moved, Ford had a clear shot at the tunnel entrance, but Sheppard had done a good job of pressing him down and to the right. The wind was back to helping Ford, however, and working against Sheppard and Lorne.

"Do I need to move it yet?" Radek called out. Rodney glanced back up, finding that the wraith had mainly scattered, providing no focal point for any of their weapons. Then there was weapons fire, but not from the Daedalus. This was men from Lorne's launch, firing into the lift vessel of Ford's launch, which looked as if it might be just getting drawn into the tunnel, but passing very close over the lower lip of the mirror array.

"Ten degrees clockwise, ten downrange!" Rodney called out now. "They're trying to crash Ford's launch into the mirror array!"

"What?! We just fixed that!" Radek called back, then repeated Rodney's targeting instructions. The light swept over the mirror array just as Ford's launch grazed against the outer ring of mirrors, then more fire from Lorne's men struck the lift vessel and the launch went down. It struck the array at an angle, so that the prow of the launch became wedged in the girders that supported the hundreds of wagon wheel sized, curved mirrors. The updraft seized the deflating lift vessel, which entangled both the occupants of the launch and wedged it even deeper in the array.

"That's good! Leave it right there!" Rodney called to Radek, peering across the distance to see if he could make out what was happening. It would be terribly risky for either the launch or the orlub to approach the tunnel while the updraft blew, but that left Elizabeth alone down there with Ford, who might do anything now that his hopes were dashed.

"What has happened?" Radek was at his elbow again, breathless with concern.

"They forced Ford to crash his launch over there," Rodney pointed, and even as he did he saw one of the two people from the launch make a sudden move away from it.

"That's... is that Dr Weir?" Rodney asked, seeing that whoever it was seemed to have her hands free, but that could have happened when the launch crashed.

"I think it must be," Radek said, squinting. "Because... yes, you see, he is going after her."

Ford seemed to still be having trouble with extracting himself from the tangle of stays, but now he was making progress... and then the crack of a rifle pushed him back.

"Good going Lorne!" Rodney cheered. It was taking two men at the sculling sails to hold the launch in position, but that left two who had a clear shot at Ford now. Ford was not about to allow himself to remain an easy target, however, Rodney was sure, and indeed, the man quickly gave up on pursuing his hostage and instead took possession of the wooden case which Rodney knew held the Star's Heart -and their best hope for defending the city against the wraith.

More gunshots rang out, but they did not prevent Ford from his goal, nor from escaping, as he climbed away from Dr Weir, along the girders just below the lip of the tunnel. Lorne maneuvered his launch to keep him in range.

"Is it such a good idea to shoot at him?" Radek asked. "What will happen if he drops the case?"

"It might get caught in the girders," Rodney speculated. Below the mirror array the wall of the cavern made a sheer drop, straight into the sea. "If it hits the water... well I have no idea how deep it is there."

There was another boom of cannon fire from the Daedalus -apparently the wraith had begun to mass somewhere again, and another small volley from the launch.

"Crap," Rodney said. "I don't think they're firing at Ford."

"The wraith? They are there in the array?" Radek said.

"Lots of shadows down in among the struts," Rodney muttered.

"Dr Weir, she knows she must stay in the light, yes?" Radek demanded, leaning heavily on the railing, as though getting even an inch closer would let him see more.

"She seems to be staying with the launch, now that Ford's taken off," Rodney said. "And what the hell is Sheppard doing?"

The orlub had been fluttering here and there all around the mirror array ever since Ford had crashed the launch, frequently coming withing shouting distance of Lorne for a moment or two and then flitting off again.

"I think he is wraith spotting," Radek said. "At least that's what I would do."

"If it wasn't for the Star's Heart I'd say it would serve Ford right if the wraith got him..." Rodney began, and then Radek's hand on his arm stopped him. Rodney's words about the shadows beneath the mirrors were more prescient than he'd imagined, for now it seemed that they hid far more wraith than they'd realized, and Ford was surrounded by them.

"Ježiší, ne!" Radek moaned as they both watched Ford hold out the wooden case holding the Star's Heart. He gestured to it, as though offering it to the hoards of barely visible monsters lurking beneath the mirrors all around him, but Rodney knew they would not care. One rose up to grab at him and got a pistol shot in the face for its troubles, and then Rodney counted all six shots, as Ford fired at the wraith, one after another. Rodney already knew the outcome to be inevitable.

With his pistol emptied, wraith swarmed onto Ford from all around him, swaddling him in the sticky webbing they exuded, though he struggled, and maintained his grip on the case.

"God, no, don't let him give the thing to the wraith after all," Rodney implored, and then there was one more round of musket fire from Lorne and his men and Ford's struggling ceased, the case dropping from his lifeless hand even as the wraith lifted his body up. Heart in his throat, Rodney watched the case tumble onto one of the mirrors, then slide off it into the girders, falling through one rank, then another and then finally coming to rest among the last row of girders at the bottom of the array, hundreds of yards above a sea of unknown depth.

"We have not yet gotten to inspecting that portion of the array," Radek asked darkly, "have we?"

Rodney shook his head, watching with disbelief, but not with surprise as Elizabeth began to slowly climb down the array, toward where the Star's Heart in its wooden case had become lodged. "Radek," he began, not taking his eye off the expedition leader. "You're going to need..."

"To move light again," Radek finished for him. "Three degrees downrange, two counter-clockwise?"

"That sounds about right," Rodney answered as Radek stepped back inside. "And widen the focus, if you can."

Rodney frowned as he watched Elizabeth make her way carefully among the mirrors and girders, staying within the range of light, even as Radek moved it. Lorne had taken his launch to the lower edge of the array, possibly hoping to catch the case if it should fall, and Sheppard kept the orlub fluttering as near to Elizabeth as possible -possibly trying to dissuade her from taking further risks.

Perhaps, Rodney mused, that was why Carson was there, as Sheppard would have a hard time making the case for anyone avoiding danger. Not for the first time, Rodney found himself wishing for a telescope, so that he could tell whether that bit of sudden movement was Elizabeth momentarily losing her grip on the girders, or the girders beginning to give way.

"Careful!" he muttered through gritted teeth, seeing the lowest row of support struts give way slightly as Elizabeth climbed further down.

"Do the light need to move again?" Radek inquired from inside. Rodney shouted back that it didn't and a moment later Radek was back at his side.

"Where is Lorne?" he asked, scanning the distant scene.

"Down there," Rodney pointed to the surface of the sea just below the tunnel entrance and mirror array. "I think he's standing by in case any... thing falls."

There was the sound of gunfire from Lorne's launch again and a pale, winged man shape dropped from among the mirrors into the sea. Rodney shuddered.

There was a sudden shout from Radek. "Bože, ne!" he cried and Rodney looked to see a piece of girder falling from just below where Elizabeth was now climbing. She began to move more quickly in response, possibly hoping to put less strain on the structure, but even so Rodney watched a whole horizontal strut slipp out of alignment just as she was reaching down for the case.

"Do prdele!" Radek cried as they both saw that the case had evaded her grasp, and then Rodney could barely breathe as the whole row of mirrors under which Elizabeth was clinging began to tilt -slowly coming detached from the upper array. She made another grab for the case, and caught hold of it this time, reaching out with her other hand to grab hold of the structure above her at the same moment.

The move saved her life, as in the next second a whole section of mirrors and girders fell away from the array and plummeted into the sea. Rodney would later find finger shaped bruises on his bicep where Radek had grabbed him as they watched the piece of array fall, and he was fairly sure that Radek had similar ones on his forearm. Now, in the place where the lowest row of mirrors had been, Elizabeth hung by one arm, the case with the Star's Heart clutched tight in the other.

Rodney did not even have time to wonder how long he would be able to hold on in such circumstances, as there was Sheppard in the orlub, maneuvering expertly beneath her. They could see Carson standing in the passenger seat, guiding Elizabeth's legs into the compartment with him, and then she let go, and the orlub dropped a handful of meters... then rose again, on rapidly beating wings.

"Hurrah!" Radek cried, raising his fists in the air. Rodney just put his hand over his laboring heart and said, "Oh thank god," and then unexpectedly, he was in Radek Zelenka's arms, and Radek was in his, and they were kissing... and nothing in Rodney McKay's life had ever been easier or felt more right.

****


	12. Chapter Eleven: In which many repairs and preparations are made, we discover one last nasty surprise from Ford and the enemy is met.

**Chapter 11**

  
** "Throughout space there is energy. Is this energy static or kinetic! If static our hopes are in vain; if kinetic — and this we know it is, for certain — then it is a mere question of time when men will succeed in attaching their machinery to the very wheelwork of nature." **

_**  
- Nikola Tesla, "Experiments With Alternate Currents Of High Potential And High Frequency" (February 1892) ** _

 

_** ~~~~~ ** _

 

_**   
** _

Sheppard thought he would help Carson and Elizabeth down from the orlub's passenger seat, but the moment his own feet touched the floor he found that he couldn't quite trust his knees and had to lean heavily on the flying machine he'd just left. Glancing up, he saw that Carson and Elizabeth didn't seem to be all that impatient to be out -in fact, they were kissing again.

He had to shake his head over that development, but even as he did, he was struck with surprising impact by a petite, red haired force of nature, who wrapped him in her arms and and squeezed the breath out of him.

"John! Thank the Ancient Ones you have returned to us!" Teyla said, releasing him so that he could breath, then taking hold of his shoulders, bringing his forehead down to rest briefly against hers. Maybe it was the circumstances, but John began to think that he was finally 'getting' this uniquely Athosian style of greeting. Then Teyla switched to a more familiar means of communicating affection and John didn't think he'd ever had a sweeter kiss in his life.

He was surprised to be interrupted by a hand on his shoulder, but when he looked up he saw that the launch had come in and here was Evan, grinning like a fool. They took each others' hands first, then clapped shoulders, then each found themselves pulled into an embrace, in spite of everything, and when Evan's lips found his, John just wasn't able to refuse.

Teyla was kissing them both next, and doing the 'head touch' thing with Evan and then John's attention was distracted by McKay's shouting, "Oh my god, you're all wet!" as he stepped back from his sister's arms.

"Maybe it had something to so with the fact that I was... _pushed out of an airship fifty feet over the sea!_ " she snapped, but she was smiling, and McKay was wearing that goofy lopsided smile he got when things were really going well. Zelenka was standing beside him, grinning ecstatically, and he caught John's gaze for a moment, eyes sparkling with glee.

"We should get some dry clothes on you, as soon as possible, Miss McKay," Caldwell was saying, hand protectively but deferentially resting on her shoulder. Jeannie was currently wearing one of the Marines' uniform jackets over her soaking trousers and tunic and trying hard not to look cold.

"You're right of course," she said, "but this is the only set of, um, normal clothes I have. Lt. Novak only had these to spare, and Lord's Mercy, they probably saved my life! My old habit would have dragged right down under the water."

"Wouldn't have mattered," Caldwell said, his hold on Jeannie's shoulder less deferential now as he pulled her closer. "I'd have found you and pulled you up. I would never let you be lost like that."

A lot of heads in the crowded great entrance hall at the base of the tower looked up at this declaration -not the sort of thing that they were used to hearing from the taciturn old air-dog. Seemed like there were a lot of public displays of affection taking place just now, Sheppard noted.

"Dr McKay," Caldwell's distinctive baritone could be heard through the whole room. "I think perhaps this would be an appropriate occasion for me to ask your permission to court your sister."

"My... my _permission?_ " McKay choked. "You just... you _saved her life!_ Which is totally beside the point in any case, as you are sorely mistaken if you believe my sister needs my permission for anything!"

"He is absolutely right about that," Jeannie confirmed, reaching up to kiss Caldwell firmly but chastely on the lips. "And you absolutely have permission to court me, William Caldwell."

This announcement was greeted with both cheers and hoots and now John saw that Carson was finally helping Elizabeth out of the orlub and that Zelenka had already stepped up to help. The Czech scientist greeted her with a kiss to both cheeks.

"You are brave, brave woman," he said to her, "but you frighten Rodney and I out of at least six months of productive life. Please not to do so again."

Elizabeth laughed and reached back to accept Carson's hand as John helped him down from the orlub in turn. "I'll do me best to keep her out of trouble," Carson said, "but I'm afraid I know better than to expect any sort of peaceful, settled life with Elizabeth Weir in it." That line earned Carson another kiss and John averted his eyes, only to find Zelenka approaching him with a glint in his eye.

"And you!" he said, pointing an accusing finger at John. "You make my beautiful orlub do things it was never, ever designed to do! I do not know if you are mad man or genius!"

"You built a machine that did everything I needed it to, Doc," John said. "Me, I'm just a pilot." Zelenka looked as if he wanted to argue the point, but then something else distracted him and every other scientist in the room.

"If the case is intact, I don't think we have to worry about the condition of the Star's Heart," Elizabeth was saying, as said the distinctive wooden box was handed down to her from the orlub. "It's actually fairly durable." She opened the lid and smiled as soon as she saw the contents. She turned it to face the crowd a moment later.

Gasps and soft exclamations could be heard from the crowd around them, as many saw, for the first time, the mysterious artifact. It shone with a light of its own, as golden as the color of the great crystal which lay at its center, and John feasted his eyes upon the thing with everyone else.

"And now, if we only knew where it went," McKay said, pondering the device with furrowed brow, "we'd have half our problems solved."

"Oh!" Teyla said suddenly. "But we do know... That is, Jinto knew, and he told me, when we heard about Dr Weir..."

"What are you talking about?" McKay demanded, turning to face Teyla.

"When it became known, in the settlement, that Dr Weir had been taken," Teyla explained, "and that Ford was believed to possibly be... something like a wraith worshipper, Jinto came to me just before I left to go with the searchers. He was very ashamed, and told me that he knew Ford and Maybourne were both evil men, but that they'd threatened him, and his father and I, so that the boy kept silent. He first encountered Ford and Maybourne some days ago, in a room near the base of the tower, and they particularly threatened him about this room -that someone would be hurt if he spoke of it."

"Do you know _where_ near the base of the tower?" Sheppard asked, before McKay could ask more rudely.

"He described it to me, quite clearly," Teyla confirmed, much to everyone's relief. "He was frightened, but he marks a trail as well as any boy of Athos. I have no doubt that I will be able to lead you to it."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" McKay said, but John held up a hand.

"I know it's a priority," he said, "but let's not go off half cocked. I don't want civilian personnel going unescorted in the city, either, and I've got people coming off duty who need to debrief. Dr Weir, do you need to go to the infirmary, or back to your quarters before you do anything else?"

"I don't need to go to the infirmary," she said, glancing back at Beckett, "but a shower and a change of clothes would do me a power of good. I can be ready for a senior staff meeting in, say, half an hour?"

"Works for me," John said, then turned to Lorne. "Major, you and your people are off duty for the next four hours, barring emergency, though you will need to be at the meeting, and I'm going to recommend grabbing some lunch before then. That's what I'm going to do."

"That does sound like a good idea, McKay," Zelenka said. "If we get a good lunch now we can work for hours without interruption."

Zelenka's argument won McKay over, in the end, and Dr Weir turned the custody of the Star's Heart over to him before she went back to her quarters. This left Rodney wide eyed and jittery for the whole of lunch, and kind of entertaining to watch, but he made quick work of lunch too. Before long, he Zelenka, Gaul and Abrams, guided by Teyla and accompanied by Ronon and Lt Miller, were headed off to the room Jinto had been told to keep secret.

For his lunch, Sheppard shared a table with Lorne, Markham, Stackhouse, Smith and the other Marines who'd crewed Lorne's air launch, where there was a lot of mutual congratulations going around, and with good reason. There was a warm light of affection in Evan's eyes, when they met his from time to time, and it made John blush and put a goofy grin on his face.

Sobering up wasn't hard when it came time to gather for the meeting, however, especially when he heard McKay's report on the power room.

"I can only assume that it was Ford's doing," he said, voice dark with anger, "but someone seriously shot the place up. Yes, the Star's Heart should go there, but we're going to need to do extensive repair work on systems we barely understand before we get the benefit of it."

"But, why would he do that?" Beckett asked. "What was the point?"

"Ford referred to Atlantis as 'sea trove'," Elizabeth said with a sigh. "The Deep Ones believe that all items abandoned under the water become their property and domain. I suspect that this was Ford's way of demonstrating that claim."

"Regardless of his motives," Caldwell said, "what we need to know now is how long it's going to take to undo the damage he caused." The Daedalus' captain had gone back to his ship for lunch, and returned to Atlantis for the meeting.

"I have no idea!" McKay replied to Caldwell's question, throwing his hands in the air. "We're still trying to catalogue which damage is merely cosmetic, which is highly inconvenient, and which is system critical; we haven't even begun to work out _how_ to repair anything, much less how long it will take!"

"Understood, Dr McKay," Elizabeth said, placating. "Is there anything you need that we can help you with? Personnel? Equipment?" McKay shook his head.

"I've got all the people I need, and Miller has the 'magic touch' when we need it," he said. "All we can use now is time, and right now I can't tell you if we're going to need two days, two weeks or two years to get the city's power hub functioning properly again."

"All right," Elizabeth said soberly. "I suppose you might as well get back to it, and if the wraith plan to strike tonight we're probably going to have to reply on our present assets alone. I would appreciate it if you'd send someone to let me know if..."

"If we make any progress, or come up with any sort of timeline," McKay cut her off, already rising to go. "Yes, yes, and I'm going to go and do actual work now." Caldwell frowned after McKay as he disappeared, but John hid a snort of laughter. McKay came through when you needed him, John knew, and that was all that mattered to him.

"So, let's have a look at our present assets," he said, bringing the focus of the meeting back. "If the wraith do mount a massed, aerial attack tonight, what do we have to stop them with?"

What they had, they eventually determined, was Atlantis herself -a fairly impenetrable fortress of light- a dozen or so mantle lanterns, including the large chandelier on the Daedalus and another couple of the three-lantern setups. They also had a small arsenal of conventional firearms, and the Daedalus as a flying gun platform. The strategy they finally arrived at, given these assets, was to use their light sources to 'herd' the wraith into kill zones, either flanking the Daedalus, or in front of one or two designated settlements.

"It's going to be difficult to use the chandelier on the Daedalus as a light source for the city's light beam weapon, if the Daedalus is on the move," Peter Grodin pointed out, when they came to examine the plan's shortcomings.

"We did have hopes that the Star's Heart would allow the city to create its own light source," Elizabeth said wistfully. "I suppose we can ask that the Daedalus try to keep station at a certain point when not needed elsewhere."

Caldwell nodded. "I'd certainly like to hang on to every weapon and asset in our arsenal," he agreed, "and if the kill zone plan works out, we may not need to be too mobile, but one of the Daedalus' chief assets is her mobility. I'm not inclined to sacrifice it."

"I wouldn't recommend it," John agreed.

"Okay, but what about when the wraith start dropping rocks again?" Lorne asked.

"Dropping rocks?" said Caldwell.

"It is a tactic used, occasionally, by the wraith," Teyla spoke up for the first time. "Only when they wish to punish a whole settlement, or eliminate a threat, as they did to Ronon's people. They are able to use their terrible strength to tear great boulders from the cavern walls and ceiling, and drop them on whatever lies below, and if they deem Atlantis itself to be a threat, there is a real possibility that they will employ that tactic here."

"We may be able to use our light beam weapon to keep the wraith away from the walls immediately above the city," Grodin said.

"But not if the Daedalus is on the move," Lorne finished grimly. "We can put sharpshooters on the upper balconies, but they can't hit what they can't see."

"Maybe that's where the orlub can come it," John suggested. "I was thinking we could use it for communication, between the Daedalus, Atlantis and the settlements, but if I'm carrying a lantern, too, I can use it to sweep the areas above the city whenever the Daedalus has to move out of position."

"Take another sharpshooter with you," Caldwell advised, and John agreed.

The meeting broke up after that, as folk went out to make their various preparations. Groups of marines were ferried to Athos and the other settlements they'd be protecting; Caldwell returned to the Daedalus to begin drilling his gun crews, Lorne took on the task of assigning the sharpshooters to various locations on the city and John went down to the newly discovered power relay room to check on how Mckay and his scientists were doing.

Teyla had given him directions, and John knew he was in the neighborhood when he began to hear the sound of McKay and Zelenka bickering. He followed the sound to a small room, presently being lit by one of the mantle lanterns, as all the lighting in the room had been destroyed in Ford's vandalism. The place was certainly a mess, not only because of the damage, but because now a great number of wall panels were open, as well as part of the central console, and various wires, filaments and bits of crystal were spilling out everywhere.

John gave Miller and Ronon, keeping watched out front, a curt nod, then stood quietly just inside the doorway for a little while at first, carefully not interrupting. Eventually McKay noticed him.

"Sheppard!" the scientist greeted him. "Your timing is excellent; we've just finished determining a list of critical repairs and have a _rough_ idea of how long it will take to get them done." He directed John's attention to a list scribbled in a notebook he laid open on a more or less intact portion of the center console.

"We've identified three critical areas that will need to be repaired before the city will be able to safely handle the power from the Star's Heart," he explained. "Gaul and Abrams are working on one, and Zelenka and I will handle the other two. We think it _may_ -and let me stress 'may' here- be possible that we could be done with these repairs in three or four hours."

"More like five or six, if you ask me," Zelenka put in, and McKay's answering glare communicated clearly that no one had.

"No guarantees, at any rate," McKay said to Sheppard. "And there's a fourth problem which may turn out to be more critical than we realize. We won't know until we hook the Star's heart into the console. Oh, also, you'll need to send someone else up in Zelenka's flying machine; we'll need you in the chair room."

"For what?" John asked, reluctant to give the job of orlub pilot to anyone else.

"Grodin has worked out that the light beam weapon can be operated from the chair, a lot more efficiently than we've been doing it up to now," McKay explained. "You may even be able to direct multiple beams."

"Hm... I guess that's worth giving up the pilot's seat," John said. "And just how do I operate these beams?"

"Grodin's working on a manual, of sorts, for the little fold-out panel he found in the arm," Zelenka replied.

"He found it because _I_ told him to look for it," McKay said.

"Which you told him," Zelenka fired back, "because _we_ traced the control conduit on the schematics from here to the chair room."

"Whatever," McKay dismissed them. "None of it will work at all if we don't get this primary circuit patched." His dark glare in Zelenka's directing held the implication that the Czech scientist had been idling, but Zelenka just rolled his eyes and got back to work.

"Sheppard! You're not doing anything important this instant, are you?" McKay called out to him. "You'd definitely be contributing to my improved performance by going to get me another cup of coffee."

Now it was John's turn to roll his eyes, but he went to get the coffee too, only not just for McKay, and he made a few stops along the way.

He went up to the top of the tower first to check in with Elizabeth and the crew in the control room, and to update everyone on the progress in the power room. Then he went to find Lorne, to let him know that he would be the designated orlub pilot in the next action, seeing as John would be needed in the chair room. After that John figured he ought to check in with Grodin in the chair room, so that was where he went next.

"Captain Sheppard!" the scientist greeted him from where he sat on the chair platform, papers and notebooks scattered all around him. "Did Dr McKay tell you...?"

"That I'll be controlling the light beam weapon from the chair here?" John finished for him. "Yep. I'm here to have a look at this control panel you found."

"Ah," said Grodin. "Well, it won't open unless someone with the Touch is actually sitting in the chair, and it shuts as soon as you get up, but I made a sketch of it, and I've done a little research on what it controls. I'll have a finished translation of the control face in about an hour."

"Excellent," John said, coming to crouch beside where Grodin was working, and glancing over the notes and sketches he'd made. "I think we've got another two hours or so before we lose the sunlight, and we aren't expecting the wraith to try anything before then."

"We've still got two hours?" Grodin said, sounding relieved. "Oh good. I've been working here for so long, I haven't checked the time."

John hadn't looked himself lately, and so extracted his own timepiece to confirm his estimate. "Dr Weir says that we'll lose the sun at around five-twenty this evening," he said, smiling at the memory of seeing his pocket watch mysteriously restored. "And it's not quite three-thirty now, so yeah, pretty close to two hours." John looked back at the chair which had presumably accomplished this small, clockwork miracle as he snapped the cover closed, then shifted his gaze to the wide windows which looked across the sea to the entrance tunnel and the mirror array.

Making his way to the balcony there, he saw that the Daedalus had taken a position which made it the third point of an equilateral triangle whose other two points were Atlantis and the mirror array. From where he stood John could even hear the shouts of the drill commander on the deck, running the gun crews through their paces, and the rumble of the gun carriages on the Daedalus' wooden decks. 

After a while John realized that Sgt Bates had come to join him on the balcony, but he stood silent as well.

"Sergeant," John greeted him, when he realized that the Marine was waiting for him to strike up any conversation. "Major Lorne post you here?"

"Yes sir," Bates answered. "I know it's early yet, but I didn't have anyplace else in particular to be."

"Fair enough," John said, taking note that the sergeant had a Springfield rifle, a coach gun and a pistol with him. "You going to have enough ammunition for all that firepower?"

"Lorne's organising runners," Bates said. "For each area of the city where he's stationed shooters, to fetch ammo and other stuff, when needed."

"Excellent," John said, meaning it. He was decidedly grateful for Evan's organizational skills, as he had always perceived his own strengths to be best as a field operative, rather than a commander. Now that circumstances had placed him in that role he was finding a whole new admiration for people like Evan and Elizabeth who could manage such things.

Still, John liked to think of himself as adaptable, and if the expedition ever needed to see her military commander out in front, demonstrating his leadership skills, now was the time. Bearing that thought in mind, John headed out once again, first to the mess hall, to get that coffee for his scientists, and to check on the disposition of the evening meal. He made arrangements for cold dinners to be delivered to the crews working in the power room and the chair room, and then went to find Lorne again, to tell him to have his runners do the same for the defence forces he'd stationed around the city.

The coffee was less than hot by the time he brought it back down McKay and the other scientists in the power room, but there were, surprisingly, no complaints. He got a fresh update on the power situation, then carried this information back to Elizabeth in the control room, and afterwards made his way to the infirmary, to check in with Dr Beckett and see that his needs were being met.

Spent in this manner -travelling from one place to another, throughout the city- the next two hours passed quickly for John. He even had a set of signal flags delivered from the Daedalus to Atlantis so that some kind of basic communication could be managed between the airship and the control tower, which Elizabeth thought wonderfully clever. The two of them stood now on the top most balcony of the central tower, with Teyla and Lorne, watching the last of the sun's light disappear from the array.

"Right," John said as the cavern slipped into darkness and the mantle chandelier bloomed into light and was hoisted up above the Daedalus' decks. "That's my cue to go park my backside in the big chair. Luck to all of us."

"And to you." Elizabeth said, taking his hand before he left. Lorne and Teyla also insisted on a quick kiss each, which John still felt a bit awkward about accepting in public, but which left him with a warm feeling that stayed with him all the way down to the chair room.

Corridors which had lain dark and shadowed during the day were now lit with the countless fixtures and panels -cloaking the city's towers, balconies and halls with light, and rendering the whole of Atlantis almost magically luminous. The glass-like surface of the lake upon which she rested reflected the city's light onto the walls and ceiling of the cavern closest to her, but there still remained shadows aplenty for their enemies to hide in.

John seemed to somehow _feel_ this vulnerability from the city, making his way into the chair room as though compelled. The chair almost called to him as he sat in it and the control panels Peter had told him about silently revealed themselves as soon as he sat. Peter came up immediately with a small sheaf of papers upon which he'd written various instructions on how the interface worked, but suddenly John knew he wouldn't need them.

Having studied Peter's copious notes earlier, John would never have called the controls self-explanatory, and yet now they seemed utterly intrinsic, his understanding of them innate. Moving his fingers over one surface, he could tell that the intake array was focused on the Daedalus and the massive light source which hung above her decks, but the focus was not perfect. A light touch on the controls corrected it and John relaxed back in the chair. He was in control.

Another touch had the single beam of light at his command sweeping over the ceiling of the cavern, and John could hear Peter, out on the balcony now, reporting back on the results. He heard and understood everything, but he hoped no one was expecting him to reply, because he had the feeling that speaking would shatter his concentration. The feeling was not unlike piloting the orlub -his control perfect yet somehow tenuous.

Following a hunch, John directed the light beam over to the juncture of the ceiling and wall of the cavern, near the place where an underground river entered and formed the first, plunging waterfall high above them. No sooner had the light glanced over the tumbling torrent, than John heard the first eerie, shrieking scream from the wraith he'd revealed there, and a moment later the whole cavern echoed with the resounding boom of the Daedalus' guns, firing a full broadside. They had met the enemy.

"Oh my god!" he heard Peter Grodin cry. "It's... the whole ceiling of the cavern is moving... it's alive with wraith; God help us, there's no end to them!"

John gathered his resolution in the face of the terrible sinking feeling that came at Peter's words. He would swear he could feel the city crying out for the power she should have had, and his thoughts turned involuntarily to McKay and Zelenka, working below in the full knowledge that all the city depended on their efforts. They _were_ the best -John felt this down to his boots- but he also knew from painful experience that, in war, sometimes not even the best is good enough.

Turning his thoughts to their best use of the assets they had now, Sheppard chose his primary targets -the front line of the advancing wave of wraith, and the walls above the land-ward piers city- and directed the beam on a path that covered first one of these areas, then the other. More often than not, he was able to move in opposition to Lorne and the orlub, so that wherever Lorne was, he would direct his light elsewhere. He quickly learned how and where to apply the beam in different sizes and intensities as well.

He began by widening the beam to create a barrier of diffuse light, preventing the wraith's front line from advancing. Immediately pleased at how well this technique worked, John suddenly felt the whole city shudder, as (what he learned later to have been) a carriage sized boulder struck one of the land-ward towers. Sweeping the beam back toward the walls above the city, John heard Peter cry out that Lorne had revealed another group of wraith, working at rock protrusion there. Almost instinctively, he tightened the focus, intensifying the light and eliciting screams of terror and agony from the wraith.

"It's killing them!" Peter shouted. "The stronger light seems to burn them -two of them even burst into flames!"

John grinned savagely, sweeping the smaller, brighter beam over the cavern ceiling -finding and eradicating two more groups of wraith doing similar work. Then came the sound of the Daedalus cannon firing again, and John redirected the light towards their fight, widening it again to drive the mass of wraith towards the Daedalus' field of fire. This was like driving schools of fish toward a net -they were too easily driven, but there was so many of them, half of them scattered rather than going where directed.

Wraith fell in droves as he and Lorne drove them into the range of the Daedalus' guns, but more continued to take their place, and now John had to return his attentions to the walls above Atlantis, as another boulder or two was dislodged onto the city. More wraith fell before his beam, and more still, but there was no end to them and their attacks were becoming bolder.

A flurry of gunfire, echoing among the city's towers, was the first sign that the enemy was among them. Then John heard Peter call out that the wraith had netted someone from a balcony and were carrying him away. John prepared to seek out the fleeing wraith with his light, but was spared the need, as further gun shots rang out and, a moment later, came the screams of both men and wraith, falling.

 _"The Marines have made a pact,"_ John remembered Evan telling him earlier. _"No one lets anyone be taken."_ It was a cold relief he felt, knowing they were keeping this pact, but it was relief all the same.

It was with a faint sense of foredoom that John returned the widened beam to the Daedalus' field of fire, driving yet more droves of wraith into the kill zone. He could carry on like this for another hour or two, or maybe even more, but the Daedalus would eventually run out of shot and powder. Her crews would succumb to fatigue, but the wraith seemed inexhaustible, both in numbers and strength.

 _Now would be a good time, McKay,_ John thought, hating how desperate and helpless he felt. If there were only some way to loose some massive, cleansing light in the very heart of the wraith's nest, he'd give up his own life to do it, but could not think of any means to do so, no matter how he wracked his brain. Making such demands of his poor brain, at the same time as he continued to manipulate the light from Atlantis, John's first sensation of the surge of power from the Star's Heart made him think, for a moment, that he'd given himself a stroke.

There were no words to describe the feeling of energy swelling through countless circuits and systems left cold and lifeless for so long, and when it finally reached and ignited the blazing beacon at the apex of the city, John found himself shouting with astonishment and triumph. His was not the only voice raised in shock or joy. Throughout the city he could hear cries and shouts, and when the beacon lit he could hear a faint cheer go up on the Daedalus as well.

All that was soon drowned out, however, by the enraged and agonized shrieks from the wraith. The sound was penetrating, came from every direction, and was loud enough to strip a man of his sanity, were he to be exposed to it for a long enough time. John immediately became determined to exterminate it, and now he had the weapons at his command to do so.

Instead of one beam, now he had as many as he desired, and he sent them -narrow and lethal against the wraith working at the rocks above them, and wide and impenetrable against the hoards of wraith swarming around the Daedalus. The wraith did not so much flee as fly into utter, chaotic disarray, breaking off in smaller groups trying to escape, dropping, flaming from above, even plunging into the sea in desperation.

A number flitted this way and that among the city's towers where they were quickly picked off by the sharp shooters, or fell afoul of one of John's deadly, searching beams. John lost himself in a sort of dance of light and death, feeling the beams of light he directed like his own fingers, pointing out doom to their enemies. It consumed his entire attention, so that the voices and sights of the people around him dropped away to nothing... until he realized that someone -possibly several someones- were desperately and repeatedly calling his name.

"Sheppard? Captain Sheppard!" That was Peter Grodin, no longer standing out on the balcony, John realized.

"Sheppard! John!!" McKay -John recognized the voice after a moment, sounding even more desperate than Grodin. "You need to get out of the chair, John; we need it now!"

That snapped him back to awareness, because first, why was McKay up here? And second, what in God's name did they need the chair for? He shook himself, opening eyes that he had not realized were closed to take in his surroundings. Peter Grodin was standing to his left, Rodney McKay to his right, looking dishevelled, soot streaked and deeply desperate, but it was another figure that immediately caught John's attention.

Ronon, who should also have been down below in the power room, was standing just inside the door, and in his arms he carried the even more dishevelled, soot streaked, and seemingly lifeless body of Dr Radek Zelenka.

***

Rodney knew when the sun left the mirror array, as the lights in the corridors outside the small room where they worked all came on. The lights inside the power room had all been thoroughly destroyed, however, and so Rodney and Radek continued to work by the light of one of his mantle lanterns. Without any window to the outside, they had no idea of the passage of time, nor of the course of the battle -whose advent they had to deduce from the distant sound of the Daedalus' cannon fire, and from the shock to the city they all felt, when the first wraith loosened boulder struck it.

Even that sobering reminder of how desperate of their situation was did not cause Rodney and Radek to pause in their work any more than to exchange worried glances. The cold dinners that had been brought down to them a little while earlier still sat on a near by counter, a few bites taken from each, but otherwise neglected. They would eat when they had accomplished their goal.

They were getting close. Rodney had sent Gaul and the other scientists away an hour ago, as only the most exacting work remained, and he and Zelenka were the only ones he trusted to do it right. He wished profoundly that they had more time, for it was clear that they were working with an extremely powerful energy source, and any mistake could have disastrous consequences, for them and the city.

"Jéžiši!" Radek cried as they both staggered, feeling the city shudder under another onslaught of boulders. Rodney might wish for more time, but it was clear that they were not going to get it. Fitting what he hoped was the last connector in place, Rodney closed the access panel he'd been working on and turned to Radek, seeing him do the same.

"Oh my god, are you done?" Rodney asked, not sure whether he was hoping for or dreading Radek's affirmative answer.

"Doufám že ano," Radek muttered then, looking up and realizing that Rodney hadn't understood, said, "I hope so."

"There's a ringing endorsement," Rodney muttered to himself, aware that he was no more confident of his own work. "Well then, you'd better stand back," he said more loudly as he opened the case holding the Star's Heart with hands he refused to admit were shaking.

Reverently, he lifted the artifact from its case and placed it in the similarly shaped indentation on the console. It went only part way in at first, and Rodney waited to see if it would slide further in on its own, but nothing happened.

"Maybe..." Zelenka suggested hesitantly. "Maybe you should... push down a little?" He gestured pushing the Star's Heart into the console, then shrugged.

Uncertain, Rodney glanced between Zelenka and the console, waited another moment, then decided to give it a try. He didn't push hard, but it wasn't needed. At his first firm nudge he felt something engage, and the Star's Heart began to lower itself into the console.

"Yes!" Rodney shouted, pumping his fist into the air, and then he stood back too, waiting to see what would happen. There was something like a breathless pause, and then the whole room -perhaps the whole city, Rodney considered- began to vibrate, ever so slightly. A low, sub-bass hum accompanied the vibration, and it seemed to be growing. Rodney wondered if he and Radek shouldn't just get the heck out of that room, when the vibrating hum came to a crescendo, and suddenly the corridors outside weren't just lit, they blazed with light.

"Whoa!" said Ronon, still standing guard just outside the door with Miller. "You guys do that?"

"Um," said Rodney, noticing a growing burning smell in the power room. "I think so. Radek, maybe we should..."

He was interrupted by a cascade of sparks erupting from a panel on the side of the console (where he'd been working), and a moment later, more burst from the wall behind Radek. Wide eyed, Zelenka ducked and made to follow Rodney's aborted suggestion to head for the door. Unfortunately, it was already too late.

Outside in the corridor the lights only flickered slightly, but within the power room, sparks were flying everywhere. Rodney only escaped by throwing himself on the floor, and even as he did so he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a massive electrical arc, leaping from the main console to the panel behind Radek, passing through the Czech engineer as it did so.

Rodney heard Radek's agonized cry, even as he tumbled to safety just beyond the threshold. When he looked back into the power room he saw Radek's prone body, unmoving as more panels sparked all around him. Rodney didn't stop to think, much (for every electrical engineer knows to proceed cautiously when high current may be involved) and for that reason he pulled his jacket sleeve over his hands before he reached back into the room to grab Radek and drag him out into the corridor.

"Careful Doc," Miller shouted uselessly even as Rodney and Radek reached safety, but Rodney hardly heard him. Radek wasn't moving, or speaking, and there was a terrible scorch mark over his chest, right over his heart. "Oh, god, oh god, oh god," Rodney muttered, opening the still smoldering vest and shirt with trembling hands to see the very damage that he feared the most.

"Still breathing," said Ronon, who Rodney now realized had come to kneel on Radek's other side. "What the hell is... is that his heart?"

"No, no, no... It's not his heart, it just helps his heart," Rodney babbled, struggling to stave of panic. "His heart is weak, because it was injured when he was younger... with an electric shock... Oh god I don't know if I can fix this..."

"Looks just like the kind of stuff you guys fix all the time," Ronon said, which should have pleased Rodney no end to hear, but did nothing to mitigate the terrible feeling of helplessness growing in his gut. Then he felt Radek's fingers tighten in his. His eyes fluttered open and he coughed feebly, and Rodney's own heat leapt.

"Rodney?" Radek whispered.

"Um..." Rodney said. "You... didn't happen to pack any spare parts with you, did you? I mean, for your, ah, heart... thing."

"Bohužel ne," Radek said with a pained attempt at a smile, and though Rodney didn't understand the words, the meaning was clear. Radek tried to raise his head to see himself, and Rodney quickly took of his jacket, rolled it and placed it under Radek's head.

"Oh... dear. That does not look good," he said, letting his head fall back to the make-shift pillow -his eyes drifting closed.

"It's... it looks completely fused," Rodney said, working hard to keep his voice steady. "I'm sure I could rebuild it, or build another if I had the plans... and the time..."

"But you do not," Radek said sadly and Rodney felt his throat constrict. Radek's hand moved to cover his, and squeezed it gently.

"You know, Rodney, and I know, that I have been living on borrowed time, these last sixteen years," he said softly. "It is not so... unexpected."

"No, no, no, no, you do _not_ get to gracefully bow out now!" Rodney choked out. "We have not even _begun_ to bring the combined power of our intellect to bear on the problems of the world, much less this city!"

Radek only tipped his head to meet Rodney's eyes with his own, pale blue and, for once, not obscured behind his glasses -which lay somewhere on the power room floor. "Rodney," he sighed, voice barely audible. "Miláčku... I am very sorry..."

Radek's eyes drifted closed, his hand falling still on Rodney's, and Rodney felt something like a fist of sheer terror seize his heart.

"Radek!" he cried, but he had slipped into unconsciousness, possibly for the final time.

 _No, no, no; no panicking, not now,_ Rodney told himself sternly. _Radek needs your brains functioning at top capacity, not dithering like a child's. Think!!_

"Maybe I should send for the doc," Miller suggested, to which Rodney responded with impatient scorn.

"Beckett can no more fix him than I can cure your dandruff," Rodney snapped. "He needs an engineer, not a voodoo practitioner... He needs an engineer who can fix a highly complex, delicately calibrated device, without the plans and in less than twenty..." Rodney glanced over at Radek, taking in his shallow, panting breaths, his pale skin and the slight bluish hue to his lips and recalculated. "Okay, maybe more like ten minutes."

"I dunno," said Ronon. "Sounds more like magic than science to me. But then, this city's full of stuff that you guys say is science, but looks like magic to me."

"Yes, well," Rodney said, gingerly wiping some of the scorch marks off the cracked crystal at the center of the fatally damaged device embedded in Radek's chest. "It's not uncommon for the uninitiated to mistake something for magic when it's actually just science that you just don't understa..." He trailed off -struck, suddenly, with inspiration.

"Ronon, can you carry him?" Rodney asked, standing abruptly.

"Sure," said Ronon. "Where to?"

"To the chair room," Rodney answered, holding in his mind the image of Sheppard's pocket watch just after he'd rescued Rodney on the deck of the Daedalus -crystal smashed and case hopelessly crushed- and later, after his first encounter with the chair, looking as perfect as the day it had been made. Like magic, he remembered thinking, in spite of how well he knew better.

"We're going to take Zelenka to the chair room," Rodney reiterated. "You," he pointed at Miller, "stay here, and don't let anyone in there." He indicated the power room, where the sparking and electrical arcs had subsided for now, but Rodney had the feeling that the Star's Heart was home for good.

Anxiously aware of every passing second, Rodney followed Ronon and Radek to the lift and then crowded in with them. Upon arriving on the chair room level, he had eyes only for the chair in the center of the room, ignoring the frankly astonishing spectacle of dancing light outside. Impatient with Sheppard's slow response, Rodney was nearly ready to haul the man bodily out of the chair when he finally wakened to his immediate surroundings and took in the vision of Ronon holding Radek's prone form.

"What the...?" he exclaimed, looking a bit dazed but pulling himself together quickly. "Zelenka! What the hell happened?"

"Electrical shock," Rodney answered curtly. "He needs the chair to fix him. Now!"

Sheppard started to move, but slowly, looking confused. "Ah... McKay, the chair fixes mechanical things -as far as we know," he said. "Zelenka..."

"Needs a mechanical repair," Rodney interrupted, too impatient to explain. He waved Ronon over so that Sheppard could see the mess of fused parts in Radek's chest and when he did his eyes widened with astonishment.

"Is that... is that his _heart?_ " Sheppard exclaimed, still not moving out of the chair quickly enough.

"No, it's his liver!" Rodney snapped. "You can wait to hear a complete explanation at his _eulogy_ or you can get your ass out of that chair and let me save his life!"

To his credit, Sheppard moved quickly once he had the critical facts and Ronon laid the unconscious scientist gently in the chair. The control interfaces on the arms had retracted the moment Sheppard had stepped away, and now it lay quiescent with Radek sitting in it. Nothing, Rodney saw with anxious dread, was happening.

"Oh god, it's because he doesn't have the touch," he said, wringing his hands. "It's not going to work..."

"Hang on a second," Sheppard said, crouching beside the chair. He stretched out one arm and laid it on the chair's arm rest and immediately something changed. The chair reclined, as it had under Sheppard, and a moment later a web of electrical tendrils emerged from the chair's surface began to creep over Radek's body. They converged over his heart almost immediately, masking it in a luminous net of electricity.

Rodney held his breath, suspended between hope and terror when Radek's body began to twitch and shudder under the high voltage onslaught, but after less than a minute the arcs and charges began to subside. With the retreat of the last spark, Rodney heard Radek Zelenka draw a long, deep breath and, hearing that sound, found that he could release his own. Weak in the knees with relief, Rodney watched Radek's eyes blink open, pupils focused and aware as he glanced around him.

"What... what happened?" he asked and Rodney could have wept to hear him. Stumbling forward to crouch beside the chair, Rodney took Radek's hand, half aware that any number of people were watching, and well beyond caring.

"You... you were shocked," Rodney said. "Down in the power room. Do you remember?"

Radek blinked again, then frowned in thought and his eyes widened in alarm.

"Sakra!," he said, trying to look down at his own chest. "Můj srdcový pomocník..."

Casting his own eyes down to the device, Rodney noticed first that the flesh around Radek's heart assistant device was still reddened and even scorched in places and he realized that his friend was probably in shock or something like it at the moment. The marvelously complex device that provided the strength his heart no longer had, however, was in perfect condition and he could hear its faithful clockwork motion, running just as it should in Radek's chest.

"We fixed it," Rodney said, voice steeped with wonder at the fact. "Or rather, the chair did -I really have no idea how."

"You fixed it..." Radek repeated, dazedly looking down at himself. He gave a long slow blink at what he saw.

"Tak..." he said after a long moment, relaxing back in the chair. "It would seem that I am given yet more time to borrow... at some cost. Ow. Everything hurts."

As if on cue, it was at this very moment that Dr Beckett appeared, accompanied by Elizabeth, two stretcher bearers and Peter Grodin -who had probably been the one to go fetch him.

Now Rodney found himself shunted aside as Beckett attended to Radek and Rodney had the sudden realization that if he didn't sit down very soon he was going to fall down. He was profoundly grateful, therefore, to find both Sheppard and Dr Weir at his side, guiding him to sit on the steps at the base of the chair and not pestering him with questions, but just sitting with him. They helped him stand when Beckett had moved Radek to the stretcher and the bearers began to carry him to the infirmary, knowing without asking that Rodney needed to follow.

Sheppard returned to the chair once Radek was out of it, leaving Elizabeth to accompany Rodney to the infirmary, and Rodney did pause as they left the chair room, to watch the lights outside leap into action again at Sheppard's unspoken command.

"We have the two of you to thank for that, you know," Elizabeth pointed out. "We'd most likely be fighting the wraith in the very corridors of the city now, if it weren't for you and Dr Zelenka."

These were the very sorts of words Rodney tended to expect for the sort of work he did, and he normally tended to accept them as his due, but at the moment all he felt was slightly abashed.

"Well, it's what we came here to do," he said with a shrug. "Fix stuff, I mean." Rodney's eyes moved from the battle outside to take in the rest of the city around him, reminded again of its vastness and complexity, and how completely beyond his understanding most of it was.

"This place, though," he said. "It's so far beyond anything I've ever seen before, or even heard of. I've been with the SPB for five years and I thought I knew... I thought that there wasn't going to be anything here much beyond the kinds of things I'd encountered before. I had no idea... and it almost cost Rad... Zelenka his life."

They'd come to the lift now and Elizabeth laid her hand on Rodney's shoulder as they stepped on and began their descent.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking that you were the only one who underestimated the magnitude of what we would find here," she said. "Nor imagine that you're the only one who feels a bit in over their head at times. Carson tells me that there are mornings here he's afraid to get out of bed... but then there are also the moments when he's incredibly brave, so it all evens out."

Exiting the lift two floors down, Rodney and Elizabeth crossed from the central tower to the infirmary and residential tower by way of an arching pedestrian bridge, whose wide windows looked out across the very center of the city. Beams of light continued to dance all around them, and once he caught a glimpse of the orlub, glinting gold as it swooped and darted among the lights, but it seemed to Rodney that perhaps the wraith were thinning out.

They both got told to sit and wait when they reached the infirmary, which was to be expected but which still made Rodney chafe. Radek had nearly died; he was still seriously injured and in pain and Rodney wanted to be with him. The intensity of this desire was troubling in itself, and was yet another sign of something that Rodney was not entirely ready to face yet, much less voice, but when he saw Jeannie come rushing to his side a few moments after he arrived, he knew that one or more moment of truth was likely at hand.

"Meridith!" she cried, missing, as always, Rodney's wince. "Are you all right? What's happened?"

"I'm... I'm just here to, um, see about Radek," Rodney said, pointing vaguely toward where Beckett had taken him. "He was hurt... kinda badly, down in the power room, and I ah, didn't need to be anywhere else and just... just wanted to make sure he was okay."

"Oh!" Jeannie said. "I saw him with Dr Beckett, but I didn't get a close look. What happened to him?"

Rodney started to think about how to tell her, and whether to explain to her about Radek's heart, which really wasn't his secret to share, but Jeannie was his sister and Radek was... maybe something like family too... Fortunately, Elizabeth, ever the diplomat, stepped in.

"Dr Zelenka was electrocuted," she said, "and is suffering mainly from shock and some serious burns, I think. I'm pretty sure he'll be all right, but he's likely in a great deal of pain just now."

"Oh, well, if it's burns he's in luck," Jeannie said, smiling inexplicably.

"How's that?" Rodney glowered.

"Well, now that the city's fully powered, there's a few healing devices here, that Peter and I have been working on translating the manuals for," she explained. "One of them looks like it will be perfect for healing burns and the like. Maybe I should go and remind Dr Beckett about it."

"Really?" Rodney said, grateful and hopeful at the same time and his mind reeled once again at the totality of what this city might have to offer them.

"That does sound perfect," Dr Weir said. "I don't think Carson would mind being reminded, if it hasn't crossed his mind yet."

As it turned out, it had, for Carson called out just then for Jeannie to go and get the device, and Rodney and Elizabeth were left to wait again. Too anxious to sit any longer, Rodney left the infirmary to cross the corridor and step out onto the balcony there. This side of the tower faced the Athosian settlement and the long view of the subterranean sea, with the mirror array off to his right. The Daedalus was crossing in front of it just now, her great chandelier throwing light onto some of the mirrors there, which in turn cast it in random beams across the cavern.

A host of light beams still emanated from Atlantis herself, playing across the vast spaces over the city and the sea, and occasionally catching on the orlub -a glittering star that flitted here and there in pursuit of its prey. The wraith seemed to be in full out retreat, and most of them had turned back already. More than a few stragglers and die-hards remained, but Lorne in the orlub and Sheppard's light beams were seeking them out with great success. Free to roam the cavern air space at will now, the Daedalus was cutting down occasional pockets cowering in shadowed corners here and there, but Rodney had been hearing her guns fire less and less often. Slowly the realization began to dawn on Rodney that victory might truly be at hand.

"I think maybe we've won," he said as Elizabeth came to join him a little while later. She stood silently and watched just what he'd been watching for the last ten minutes or so, only with even fewer wraith, and a slow smile began to form on her face.

"You know, I think you may be right," she said, wonder coloring her words. "And I have some good news for you too. Carson says you can go see Radek now."

Rodney thanked her and turned to go immediately, but a gentle hand on his had him pausing at the threshold.

"Rodney, it's been... delightful to see what good friends the two of you have become," Elizabeth said, "but... forgive me if I'm mistaken, but it seems to me that there may now be... something more between you?"

Rodney couldn't quite bring himself to meet Elizabeth's eyes, for all that there was nothing but kindness and sympathy there. "Something... something like that, yeah," he said, staring into the distance over her shoulder.

"Don't ever be ashamed of love, Rodney," Elizabeth said softly, taking his hand and squeezing it briefly. "No matter who it's with."

"Right," Rodney said, meeting her gaze for a second, at last. "Thanks." Then he fled, back to the infirmary and his... lover's side.

***

Radek ached, but not nearly so badly as before, and Carson hadn't even given him any laudanum yet. Rather, he'd been the beneficiary of yet another of the Ancient Ones' miraculous devices, and the burns on his chest and back, which ought to have been agonizing, had been healed -nearly completely. His muscles still pained him from the aftermath of the powerful electrical shock his body had endured, but that was nothing to what he'd been feeling only a short while ago. Carson had told him that he could have laudanum if he wanted it, but now Radek was thinking that he might not.

"Dr McKay's been fairly chafing at the bit to see you," Carson said now as he put away the healing device he'd just used on Radek. "Shall I send him in, or would you rather have a bit more peace and quiet just now?"

"No," Radek said with a small smile. "I would like to see him. Please send him."

Radek knew how frantic he'd be if their positions had been reversed and, irrationally, Radek wanted to see that Rodney was alright as well. He wanted to see that Rodney wasn't worried any more, and to comfort him, as much as he could. Radek thought that he might even be ready to admit to himself how much Rodney McKay had come to mean to him, in spite of how much he'd tried to hold himself back.

The events of the last twenty four hours or so had kept him in a state of crisis, leaping from one looming disaster to the next, and now that things seemed to be slowing down, he had the time to consider what it all might mean. Naturally, his memory brought him back to the moment that they'd seen Elizabeth rescued and he and Rodney had suddenly found themselves in each others' arms. Even in retrospect, Radek could not find it in himself to regret that moment, nor the companionable drunk the two of them had shared previously, on the night of the celebration.

Radek had found himself opening up to the prickly scientist in a way he hadn't since his time with Nikola, and he thought that maybe something similar was true for Rodney. Perhaps it was because of the fact that both of them were wary of becoming too close to anyone, that their mutual distancing techniques had had the unintended effect of making them both more comfortable with each other. There was grand irony in that, Radek smiled to himself, and possibly a lesson as well.

Scientists, more than any other profession, it was said, must be able to learn from their mistakes, and Radek was, perhaps, ready to admit that his notion of sparing himself the pitfalls of human affection and intimacy had been a big one. There was risk, of course, as there must be in all things worth doing, but the greater risk was the dull and lonely life that that he'd tried to content himself with before.

He'd feared for his heart, in those days -that it would not be physically strong enough to endure an adventure such as this, nor strong enough emotionally, to endure love again- and he had been disprooven in both cases. Today he had seen that his heart could endure a terrible physical injury, with the Ancient Ones' devices to repair the fragile, mechanical device that supported it. Would the city of the Ancient Ones support his and Rodney's newly awakening feelings as well? Today, Radek thought, he had reason to hope that it might.

Raising his eyes to meet Rodney's as the man came into his room, Radek let his feelings show as well as he might, though it was difficult to read the response on Rodney's face without his glasses.

"Rodney, miláčku!" he said, reaching out a hand for him to take and calling him by the word he had held back from speaking until the moment he'd thought himself close to death -beloved.

"Radek?" Rodney said, his voice showing Radek's ears the things his eyes could not see, mainly worry and anxiety, but also the beginnings of a profound relief. "Are you okay? How are you feeling? Did Beckett use that Ancient One thing on you? Did it work okay? Are you sure it's not dangerous?"

"Rodney," Radek said again, catching one of the nervously flailing hands and pulling him close. "I am well. The healing device Carson used seems to have been most remarkably effective, and I do not think it will cause me any ill effects. You have saved my life, Rodney, so now please come sit and gloat as you should."

Rodney hesitated, making a half-hearted attempt to get his hand back from Radek, then he seemed to deflate a bit and collapsed in a chair at the side of the bed, hand still firmly clutched in Radek's.

"You... you're really okay?" Rodney asked again, sounding a little fearful still. "I mean, I thought... you thought so too... that you were dying, and..."

"And you were quite clever," Radek stepped in for him. "Remembering about Sheppard's watch; I do not think that more than a few people even knew about it."

"I just couldn't..." Rodney said quietly, holding on tightly to the hand he'd tried to free himself from a moment ago. "I couldn't let you... couldn't give up..."

"Neither could Nikola," Radek said. "And I do not think, if it had been the other way around, that I could have either... miláčku."

Rodney looked at him curiously at his second use of the foreign word in so many minutes. "What does that mean, 'mee-lach-koo'?" he asked.

For an answer, Radek pulled Rodney's hand closer still, to rest over his own wounded heart and hold it there in both his hands. "Miláčku," Radek said, squeezing his hands around Rodney's.

"Oh," Rodney said, eyes so wide now that even without his glasses Radek could see the blue of them. "Really?"

"Yes, really, Rodney," Radek said, smiling fondly. Rodney looked down in response, then back up, focusing on where his hand lay over Radek's fragile heart.

"I guess, maybe," he began haltingly. "I guess... I could... feel something like the same way." Radek beamed and lifted Rodney's hand to his lips and kiss it. As imperfect as his vision was, Radek's ability to see colors, like the deep, penetrating blue of Rodney's eyes, was entirely unimpaired. Gazing up into those eyes was like falling into Rodney's mind and Radek could too easily get lost there, even without his glasses. It was the soft sound of someone's throat being cleared that pulled them from their reverie.

"Jeannie!" Rodney startled, conveniently identifying the blurry figure standing in the doorway. Radek tensed at first, not at all sure how Rodney's formerly religious sister might react to the sight to two men in such an intimate pose.

"Um, sorry to interrupt," she said a little awkwardly, but not sounding particularly disapproving, "but Sheppard is here and would like to visit for a minute, and Elizabeth wants to see you, Mer, as soon as you're free here."

"You should go and talk to Elizabeth, Rodney," Radek said, patting Rodney's hand before releasing it. "I will visit very briefly with Sheppard and then I will sleep for many hours, I think. Only... does anyone know where are my glasses?"

"I'm not sure," Rodney answered, "but I'm afraid they're probably still in the power room, and I don't think it's ever going to be safe to go in there again."

"Probably also they are beyond repair as well," Radek said with a frown. "Fortunately, I have a spare pair, but they are in my quarters on the Daedalus."

"I'm sure someone can bring them for you," Jeannie said. "I'll ask around."

"Thank you," Radek said, then turned back to Rodney who'd stood up from the chair at Radek's bedside.

"Come back when I have rested," Radek said to him, "and, assuming I am able to see by then, we can go and see what newly powered city has to show us, yes?"

"Um, yeah," Rodney said, and then, with a short, furtive glance at his sister, leaned over to place a chaste but tender kiss on his lips. Radek still couldn't see her face, but when Rodney came to step past his sister at the doorway, Radek saw her put a sisterly arm around Rodney's waist. That was all fine then, he thought, and next John Sheppard was stepping into the room, his posture relaxed and his smile nearly wide enough for Radek to see clearly.

"Glad to see you looking better," the pilot said. "I'm really glad Rodney thought of putting you in the chair, and that it worked; the world needs you to build more of those amazing flying machines!"

"I am also very glad indeed, that Rodney thought to use the chair to help me," Radek said. "And I am grateful to you, for your help. It could not have worked without you. As for my flying machine, I am glad you find it satisfactory. Is it still out flying?"

"Lorne's bring her in now," Sheppard said with another grin. "The Daedalus and the air launch are still out there, chasing the wraith back to their nests, but I'd say that the battle is pretty much won, for now."

"That is very good to hear," Radek said, feeling something deep inside him finally relax. "The Star's Heart has truly saved the day for all of us."

"The Star's Heart and you guys," Sheppard corrected. "After the damage Ford did to the power room, we'd have been in a pretty hopeless situation if we hadn't had you and McKay to put it to rights. Not to mention all the stuff you figured out about the light beam weapon."

"I am happy I was able to contribute something," Radek said, a little uncomfortable with Sheppard's accolades, "but you must remember that it was more than just Rodney and I. Please do not forget Drs Grodin and Gaul and Abrams, and the other science staffs, and also do not overlook how grateful we scientists are, for the soldiers and airmen who risked and also sacrificed their lives to protect us."

"Oh, definitely," Sheppard said. "There's kudos a-plenty to go around, and I'll be delivering them personally to the other scientists as well as my men, rest assured."

"That is good to hear," Radek said, stifling a yawn. "I would be pleased if you would deliver my thanks to your men as well. I would ordinarily prefer to see to it personally, but for the moment..." Radek trailed off, gesturing to his surroundings and his bandaged chest.

"No problem, doc," Sheppard said with a grin. "I ought to hit the sack soon myself, but I'm working off something of a battle high yet. I'll make the rounds, convey your appreciation and mine, and maybe then I'll be ready to actually sleep. In the mean time, I can see you're ready for some shut-eye yourself."

"That I am," Radek said, smiling even as he covered his mouth to hide a yawn that would not be stifled. "Thank you for your news, Captain Sheppard, and I wish you a good night's sleep, whenever you manage to get it." Radek thought he heard Sheppard wish him 'sweet dreams' as he left, but his long denied fatigue had him in its grip at last, and it all faded into the background.

***


	13. Chapter Twelve: In which victory is celebrated, and one more tale is told that is of particular interest to Dr Zelenka.

**Chapter 12**

  
** "Of course Arti [Dr Artemus Gordon, Director of Intelligence for the SPB] told me that this expedition would bring about a 'new age' of technological advancement for the world, but he said that about a lot of things.  In the long run, I suppose he was right about most of those things, but especially about the Atlantis Expedition.  In some regards the discovery and opening of the Ancient Ones' city of Atlantis has even changed the balance of world power." **

  
_** - from an interview with James West, former Director of the US Special Projects Bureau in the San Francisco Chronicle, on the occasion of his 90th birthday, October, 1938. ** _

 

~~~~~ _****_

 

_**   
** _

The sun was streaming brightly from the mirror array and had been for an hour or more by the time Sheppard finally got to sleep. He'd ended up more or less repeating his routine from the evening before, just prior to the battle -trekking from one part of the city to another, checking in with people, tying up lose ends and generally putting the expedition to bed after a long and momentous day.

From the infirmary, he'd gone up to the control room, finding Peter and Gaul there, along with the two Marines on watch. John had accompanied them to the mess, where he encountered Carson and Elizabeth, having a last cup on tea before turning in, as well as Markham, Bates, and a few of the other Marines who'd been stationed out in the settlements, and on the city's balconies during the battle.

They'd lost a total of six men in the battle, which John knew was a small price to pay, seen in a more objective light. To a military force of twenty five men, however, the loss was a profound one, and deeply felt -each soldier's sacrifice like that of a family member. John knew each of their names, where they were from, their service records and family background, and he spent a few minutes sharing his own memories with the men sitting at that table in the mess, aware of the respect and regard his words earned him.

John felt the losses too, and let his men see it. This, he was coming to realize, was part of being a leader, and he was also coming to realize that he was better at it than he'd ever expected. It was with mixed feelings of pride at his newly developing skill and sorrow at their losses that John urged his people to get their rest, promising that he'd do the same as he left the mess. He still did not go directly back to his quarters, however, but instead made the trip down to the base of the tower, checking that the air launch docked there was stowed and guarded as it ought to be, and then finding his way to the power room.

Ronon was still there, along with Cpl Graves, who'd relieved Miller, and Ronon had managed to retrieve Zelenka's spectacles from the power room floor, with a piece of knotted rope. Sheppard thanked him as he took the only somewhat bent glasses and pocketed them carefully. He also offered Ronon to have another Marine relieve him if he wanted to but the dreadlocked survivalist just shook his shaggy head.

"I'll head back to the settlement in the morning," he said. "I'm good here for now. You, on the other hand, really look like you could use some sleep."

John could only shrug and grin at that, because although he hadn't looked in a mirror lately, he was pretty sure Ronon was right. He'd made his rounds now, however, and was beginning to feel his fatigue dragging at him at last, overcoming the nervous, frenetic energy that had lingered from the battle. He bid Ronon and Graves good night, and made his way back to the lifts, leaning heavily against the compartment wall as it carried him to the fourth floor.

Knowing he was bed-ward bound at last seemed to bring the depth of his fatigue home to him as he dragged his feet the last few steps to his room. The door opened at his touch as always, and he nearly tumbled directly into his cot, without even undressing or turning the lights on. Luckily, a little light from the corridor alerted him to the fact that his bed was not entirely empty.

"What the...?" he muttered, waking the bed's occupant, who lifted his head and revealed himself to be Evan Lorne.

"There you are," he said sleepily. "Been waiting for you. C'mon to bed."

Something reflexive in John was trying to tell him that he ought to have objections, of some sort, but honestly, he was just too tired. All he could focus on was falling into bed and passing out, and all he could think about having Evan there, was that it would be warmer, and nice. If there were reasons why he shouldn't, they weren't sufficient to overcome his fatigue.

John had stripped down to his long underwear and was under the warm blankets Evan had lifted away for him in less time than it would take to say, and Evan's arms were around him a moment later, comforting and close.

"Teyla says she's coming tomorrow," Evan murmured into his ear, "with a bigger bed. Don't try and talk her out of it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," John said, smiling as he felt Evan's lips brush his ear. That wasn't exactly his rational mind talking, he considered as he drifted off, but maybe that was just as well.

***

The girders beneath her feet were falling. She reached out, grabbing the metal scaffolding above her, but only with one hand, as the other clutched desperately at the case holding the Star's Heart. Her body swung over empty air as the girders beneath her dropped away, her weight pulling on her shoulder and the metal bar she clung to cutting into the flesh of her fingers. Elizabeth was alone, suspended above a bottomless chasm.

Suddenly, she felt the girders she hung from begin to shift as well. She wanted to reach out for another handhold, but couldn't, as she clung for dear life with one hand and the other could not be made to let go of the Star's Heart. She tried, knowing her life was at stake, but could not make her fingers uncurl from the handle. The girders shifted again, rusted bolts snapping and losing their grip on the rock face, and then she was falling.

She was falling free now, tumbling amidst iron beams and massive mirrors, certain to be crushed between them at any minute, nothing but death and darkness below... and then, without warning, strong arms seized her by the waist, held her back from certain doom... and she woke up.

She was not falling, but lying safe in bed -a soft mattress rather than endless darkness beneath her- though the strong, warm arms holding her safely were real. Elizabeth Weir woke gradually to find herself wrapped securely in Carson Beckett's arms. She hadn't been so when she'd fallen asleep, and Carson himself seemed to be deeply slumbering now, so he must had done it unconsciously -somehow aware of her need even as he slept beside her. That, Elizabeth reflected, was really just typical for Carson Beckett.

Yesterday... it seemed impossible that so much had happened in the course of only one day, and she'd been so exhausted at the end of it that she'd fallen asleep before she'd had any time to really process anything. She felt the need now, however, to take stock of all that had come to pass, before she went ahead with the new day. She was still the leader of the expedition, and a great deal had changed -not only for her, but for the whole enterprise. Decisions would need to be made, and she would need to bring all these recent events into perspective to make good ones.

She began by tracking the developments of the last day in reverse order, beginning with the most recent: their victory over the wraith. The wraith were, if not defeated, certainly diminished, and the city's new power meant that they need never be a serious threat again -as long as the Star's Heart held out. It would surely mean a new era of freedom and enlightenment, literally, for the people who lived here, and for the expedition, and more opportunities to teach and trade with the locals, and to learn from them.

What they might learn here and carry to the world above had the potential to change both their worlds, for the better or for the worse. Much of the responsibility for deciding what to bring to light would be hers, Elizabeth knew, and therefore determined to deliberate carefully, and listen well to the advice that came to her, from both her old friends and her new ones.

Then there was the matter of the Star's Heart, and the power it had unleashed in the city. That power had allowed them to drive the wraith back, and energised (among many other things) some of the healing devices Carson had used to help Dr Zelenka and others, but it had also nearly killed Dr Zelenka, and very likely wakened countless dangerous and unknown devices and systems in the vast, ancient city. Elizabeth had already seen how eager the scientists were to explore the newly powered city, but that exploration would need to be done with caution, and procedures would have to be enacted to assure that caution and safety for all the expedition members.

Thinking of Zelenka's mishap, Elizabeth recalled the conversation she'd had with McKay, standing on the balcony and watching the lights Sheppard controlled chase the last of the wraith from the sky. Some would say it was surprising, how the prickly scientist seemed to have developed a soft spot for his one time scientific rival, but Elizabeth saw nothing surprising about it. What some saw as a long feud, Elizabeth now recognized as something analogous to a courtship, though not even she had recognized it at the time.

Her impulse to bring them together had been more instinctual than anything else, and the fact that this impulse had born more and sweeter fruit than she had ever imagined filled Elizabeth with pride. Contrary-wise, Elizabeth had to reflect, the failure of her instincts with regard to Maybourne and Ford (especially Ford) was a profound embarrassment.

Maybourne, she owned, was a crafty operator, and had fooled a lot of people in the SPB, as well as the US military, but Ford was another matter. How had she missed that he was so obviously unbalanced, and a Deep One, to boot? She had seen, while held as his hostage, the scars on his fingers, where he'd clearly cut away the webbing which had once grown there, proving that he'd known what he was and tried to hide it. She'd not seen it until after he'd taken her captive, however, and she figured he'd probably taken pains to keep from drawing attention to his hands his whole life.

She had watched those hands, with disturbed fascination, as Ford had knelt at the edge of the pier and snatched a fish right out of the water, quicker than her own eye could follow. Cruel humor in his bulging eyes, he'd offered the still struggling fish to her (as she had not eaten in over a day, at that point) and when she had refused, brought it to his own mouth and taken a bite out of it, as thought it were a piece of ripe fruit. Elizabeth shuddered at the memory.

In unconscious response to her shudder, Elizabeth felt Carson's arm tighten around her and she, in turn, snuggled closer. As a woman adventurer -too often the lone woman in a company of men- she'd had to learn never to show fear or emotion among the most of her colleagues, but now, alone with the man who'd offered her his heart, unconditionally and without reserve yesterday, she admitted to the terror that had gripped her as Ford had revealed more and more of his true nature.

Still seemingly without waking, Carson drew her close, moving his hands comfortingly over her back for a moment, then falling still again. Elizabeth sighed in contentment and relaxed. This was, perhaps, the most surprising thing of all the events of the past few days, for her. Seeing how close Mckay and Zelenka had become was no real surprise to her, nor was the paring between Captain Caldwell and McKay's sister. She could not even say that what seemed to be going on between Sheppard, Lorne and the native woman, Teyla, was terribly shocking to her, but seeing Carson Beckett with Sheppard in the orlub, coming to rescue her, hearing his words of relieved and heartfelt devotion once he'd saved her from the mirror array -that had been completely unexpected.

Mind you, she'd been quick enough to grasp the situation, once she'd found herself safe in Carson's arms in the orlub's passenger compartment -his lips tenderly kissing her face and his voice broken with relief. Others might hold disdain for men who admitted to the 'weakness' of emotion, but it was Elizabeth's opinion that it took a better, braver man to allow himself tears. She'd expressed those opinions with words as well as other gestures of devotion, crushed close to Carson Beckett in the back of the orlub, even as she shook with her own terror and exhaustion. Carson would never think the less of her for it, she knew.

Exhaustion saw to it that they'd done nothing but sleep, as they lay beside each other in Carson's bed last night, but Elizabeth had already determined that she would never sleep alone again, if she had any choice in the matter. An unquestionably adventurous woman, Elizabeth was no stranger to the pleasant pastimes two (or more) people might partake of in a bed, but she was new to the experience of simply sleeping together, and it was more profound and pleasurable than she had expected. Sleep, she considered, might be the most intimate act of all.

As delightful and intimate as it might be, however, Elizabeth knew that the hour for sleeping had come and gone, for her at least, and that a new day awaited her. The crisis of the day before now past, there remained considerable aftermath, and tasks which it would fall to her to manage. Before they had been repelled, the wraith had done no small amount of damage to the city, and those damaged areas would need to be inspected, and repairs effected where possible.

There was likely repair work to be done on the Daedalus as well, and then there was the matter of the mirror array. Though the placement of the Star's Heart in the city meant that any settlement could be protected at any time of the day or night, there was no sense in neglecting the mirror array, even though that would now mean their involvement in a considerable restoration project. McKay would complain, but he would appreciate the importance of the project more than anyone as well.

As if sensing (still in his sleep) Elizabeth's desire to begin her day, Carson rolled away, just enough to allow Elizabeth to slip out from under his arm and rise from bed. Dressed only in a thin cotton shift, Elizabeth shivered slightly in the cool, subterranean air and moved to dress quickly, wondering if she should wake Carson to accompany her to breakfast. Elizabeth had no sooner buttoned up her vest, however, when she heard Carson yawn and stretch and a moment later he was sitting up in bed, blinking at her with sleepy contentment.

"Now there's a lovely sight to wake to," he said blue eyes sparkling with joy. "Though I suppose I'd have seen a lovelier one if I'd stirred myself a bit earlier."

"I'm sorry to have deprived you," Elizabeth said sincerely, "but there's just too much afoot today to tarry in bed. I'd very much like to, though, some day as soon as can be managed."

"I'll look forward to it," Carson said, pushing aside the covers to stand and greet Elizabeth with a kiss. "But I'm also more than a wee bit peckish for breakfast. I'll be dressed in two shakes, and we can go together."

It was mid morning by the time Elizabeth and Carson made it to the dinning hall, which was scandalously late by Elizabeth's usual standards, but she was in good company today. The cook staff had evidently decided to segue breakfast into lunch without a break, so that there were eggs and porridge as well as sandwiches and cold cuts available in the food line when they came through.

Naturally, the dinning hall was bustling, with nearly every table full. After some searching, Elizabeth noticed Sheppard beckoning them them over to the table where he and Lorne were just departing. Teyla was there still, along with Ronon and a handful of the Marines.

"I figured I'd put everybody on light duty today," Sheppard said, lingering beside the table with his hands full of breakfast dishes while Elizabeth took his seat. "All the Military folks, at least -unless you can think of a reason why they shouldn't be."

"I can't think of one," Elizabeth said. "I'll tell Dr McKay to keep the scientists close to the central tower and the labs for today and we can set up a schedule for exploration parties tomorrow. Senior staff meeting at noon all right with you?"

"I'll be there," Sheppard said with a nod. "I can pass it on to Caldwell, too."

"Excellent," Elizabeth said, starting in on her breakfast with enthusiasm. She'd had a full lunch yesterday, and the same cold dinner that everyone else had had, but she felt like she was still making up for the day and a half that Ford had kept her without a single meal. Carson and Teyla -sitting opposite her- smiled to see her appetite.

"You seem to be recovering well from your ordeals, Elizabeth," she said with a smile. "It is good to see."

"It was indeed an ordeal," Elizabeth agreed, "and a frightening one, but I knew that many good and loyal people were doing all they could to find and rescue me, and that they would not let me come to harm. My faith never wavered, and I was not disappointed." She laid a hand on Carson's where he sat beside her and the man blushed and looked down into his porridge.

Teyla nodded. "It is said among my people that no person ever finds themselves among a true and loyal company, unless they, themselves possess similar qualities. There were some, from among our settlements, who questioned my immediate trust of you and your expedition," she said, "but after yesterday, I believe those doubts will be no more."

Elizabeth listened thoughtfully as she ate, putting together an idea or two that came in response to Teyla's words. "I have been thinking," she said when she'd eaten the better part of her breakfast. "We should have some sort of celebration, and memorial, to honor those that were lost in the last battle, and I believe we should hold it here, and invite all who would care to come, from anywhere in the Realms Below. Our people have been your guests, and now it seems proper that we return the favor."

"Such an invitation would definitely be welcome," Teyla said, approvingly, "and do much to foster good relations between Atlantis and our settlements here. Suspicion and distrust only flourish when people do not know each other, but if you open the city to all those who live here I am sure you will make friends quickly."

"That is precisely my intention," Elizabeth said. "As I am aware that we are newcomers here, and unknown, now is the time to remedy that."

"May be new," Ronon said, "but can't really say you're unknown now. Person'd have to be deaf and blind, not to've seen what your people did yesterday."

"I would agree in part," Teyla said. "The people of these realms must all know by now that you are no friend of the wraith, and that you are powerful and masters of the city, but they do not know if you will wield your power kindly or cruelly. They do not know if you come as haughty overlords, or as equals, willing to share and live openly among us. People will especially want to know this latter, for it is said in all the tales that though the Ancient Ones were never cruel, and protected us from the wraith, they also kept themselves apart, and the wonders of their city were forbidden to us."

"We may be descended from the Ancient Ones, lass," Carson said, looking up from his porridge, "but we're nothing like them. For one thing, we've hardly a clue about how most of this city works. Really, we're completely in over our heads, and can use all the help we can get." 

"Indeed," said Elizabeth. "Their ways will not be ours. It is not our way to be miserly with our knowledge, and to keep for ourselves alone a city suited for thousands where our company consists of less than a hundred, would go against everything I believe in."

"All our folk will be glad to learn this," Teyla confirmed, "and opening the city to all for a celebration would carry this message more effectively than any proclamation. When do you propose to hold these festivities?"

"Part of me wants to have it tonight," Elizabeth said, "but I imagine more people would be able to come if we held off till tomorrow."

"You are likely correct," Teyla said. "If nothing else it will allow time to get the word out. Communication between settlements, as you have noted, is not as efficient as it could be."

"Actually," Carson pointed out, "I'd say it's surprisingly effective, considering the inherent risks."

"And I believe we're going to be able to make some of our first improvements here." Elizabeth added. "A lot of things are going to change now that the city is powered again, and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure that they're changes for the better."

After breakfast, Elizabeth and Carson parted company, albeit a trifle reluctantly, but they both had work to do. Carson had not only Zelenka in his infirmary, but a couple of the Marines who'd sustained injuries in the battle yesterday, and Elizabeth had a meeting to prepare for, and a celebration to begin planning. Also a memorial.

Four Marines and two Airmen from the Daedalus had been taken in the course of the fight -none of whose bodies had been recovered. All had been 'saved' from the wraith, though they had not escaped death, mainly by falling great distances into the sea, or the lake beneath Atlantis. Those who had met their end in the lake might be recovered -Elizabeth would have to send out the air launch to look for the bodies- but Teyla had told her that there were large carnivorous fish which dwelt in the depths of the subterranean sea, and bodies were never known to come to shore there.

In the hour before the staff meeting Elizabeth had sketched out plans for both the memorial and the celebration, and had begun listing the material and manpower required for each. She had decided that she was glad she'd chosen to delay the celebrations by a day, not only because it would allow them to hold the memorial first, but because she was going to have to ask for food contributions for any large feast. In fact, they were going to have to start thinking about the whole issue of resupplying the expedition.

It was highly convenient, then, that it was Captain Caldwell who arrived first for the meeting.

He arrived with Jeannie McKay, who had spent the night back on the Daedalus, and Lt. Novak, who had apparently been chaffing at the bit to get to see the Ancient One's city close up for some time.

"I can show her around," said Jeannie, who had managed to get a new set of expedition garments from somewhere.

"Find one of the Marines or Airmen to go with you," Elizabeth advised and Caldwell concurred. They had no trouble commandeering Stackhouse, who they found loitering out on the balcony, and Grodin, who Elizabeth thought maybe had his eyes on Novak. Sheppard appeared as they headed off and he was no sooner seated at the conference table than Carson reappeared, with McKay and Zelenka in tow.

The Czech scientist moved slowly, but his spirit was lively, as always. His momentarily unguarded eyes sparkled in delight as he received not one but two pairs of glasses -one from Caldwell, who'd had them fetched from Zelenka's cabin on the Daedalus, and another pair, somewhat worse for wear, from Sheppard.

"Ronon managed to get them from the power room," he explained, "using a piece of rope. That is one resourceful guy."

"Ronon Dex is indeed, a most resourceful man," said Teyla, just coming in to take her seat at the table. "But the explanation can be found in the wise words your Dr Corrigan relayed to me: Necessity is the mother of invention. Ronon knew nothing but necessity for seven years of his life. He had to either become inventive or die."

"That he did not die," Elizabeth said, "is definitely a testament to those who raised him, and to all your people's skill at surviving in such a hostile environment. Now that our arrival has altered that environment to be more favorable, however, I would wish for all of us not to forget those skills, nor the attitude that enabled your people and ours to survive in more difficult times. Our victories would be for nothing, I believe, if we squandered those talents which our difficulties brought out in us."

"In this I am entirely in agreement," Teyla said. "And it is for this reason that I suggest a... ritual, of sorts, performed by my people, on occasions such as this, to begin the festivities you have planned. It is neither lengthy nor overly complicated, but the words we speak honor the very ingenuity you speak of, and hearken back to our oldest traditions."

"That sounds perfect," Elizabeth answered. "Is there a role some of our people may take?"

There was some call and response, Teyla explained, and from there they went on to plan other aspects of the celebration, including the victuals, which Teyla promised that folk from the various settlements would happily to contribute to. After this there was a brief discussion of tonight's memorial, and then there were other day-to-day matters to organize.

McKay headed up a discussion on which repairs needed to be prioritized, including what materials might be needed for repair of the damaged buildings in the city, as well as the mirror array. This resulted in a list of essential supplies, in addition to foodstuffs, that the Daedalus would need to bring from the outer world -whose scheduling Caldwell would discuss with Elizabeth later. The assignment of personnel to the repair projects, however, had to be coordinated with the exploratory patrols that Sheppard wanted to organize.

Elizabeth approved of his idea of setting up permanent 'teams' of four, each consisting of one or two scientists and two or three military. Since neither the scientists nor the military were much accustomed to working with one another, this would result in long term working relationships between the two groups, and improve the social cohesion of the expedition as a whole. Some of the teams, Sheppard suggested, might even have one or two of the locals as members, and as an example, proposed his own team to include himself, McKay, Teyla and Ronon.

Tentatively naming this team 'Atlantis Recon Team 1', he also suggested personnel for 'A.R.T. 2' (Lorne, Zelenka, Stackhouse and Halling) and A.R.T. 3 (Markham, Parrish, Corrigan and Bates). Some of the teams could be specialized, he pointed out, while others might consist of members with more generalized skills. With the proviso that the final make up of the each team be approved by the team leader, and that all team members must be volunteers, all present agreed on the idea.

"So, Sheppard and McKay's team," Caldwell asked. "Will they be strictly exploring the city?"

"I don't see why we should limit ourselves," Sheppard replied. "Especially as we've got two locals on our team, who can serve as native guides and diplomatic advisers. I've seen how McKay can hold his own in a fight, and there's no telling what sorts of tech we might find elsewhere in these Realms, so I kinda figured we'd be able to explore both the city and the local environs."

"But you'll explore the city first?" Caldwell clarified.

"We could be exploring this city for the rest of our lives, sir," Sheppard pointed out. "I kinda figured we'd plan our missions on a case by case basis -with Dr Weir's approval, of course."

Elizabeth smiled in appreciation of the nod in her direction. "That makes the most sense to me," she said. "It offers the most flexibility, at least, and allows me to put the assets I think will work the best in the places I think they'll do the most good at that time."

Caldwell considered this for a moment, then nodded. "I suppose that might be for the best in your circumstances," he said finally. "It's certainly a novel situation you have here, and likely calls for such novel arrangements."

Another leader, Elizabeth considered, might bristle at the Captain's apparent presumption, but she understood. Caldwell was at heart a conservative man, and that made him the best at what he did, even, or perhaps especially, in the unusual circumstances SPB's airship captains often found themselves in. The strict discipline with which he ran his ship was a major contributing factor to his high survival rate, but Atlantis was no airship, and the expedition was not a military one. At the end of the day, Caldwell knew that he and Elizabeth had truly different jobs to do.

The meeting now being concluded, Caldwell's job was to oversee the transfer of all the rest of the Daedalus' cargo -save for that which they would need for their return voyage- onto Atlantis. The Daedalus would remain for another few days -doing a quick surveying voyage of the full extent of the main cavern and readying herself for the trip back up the long passage to the surface world- and then they would be on their own on Atlantis until the Daedalus returned.

As she had prepared for this expedition, Elizabeth had hardly dared to hope that they would find a place so suited for their occupation and so worthy of their long term study. She had hardly dared hope, and yet she had imagined the possibility, from time to time. It had seemed an overly optimistic fantasy, and yet here they were, preparing to make a home for themselves on a ten thousand year old city, miles beneath the surface of the Earth.

For some, Elizabeth knew, that home would be a temporary one -a brief, wonderful adventure to be followed by a more conventional career. For others, however, Elizabeth had a feeling that Atlantis would become a place to put down roots and find a real home, possibly for the first time in their lives. Sheppard, she had a feeling, would be one such, and she'd be willing to bet that McKay and Zelenka, Lorne and Grodin and quite a few others would find themselves drawn to settle here for good. She thought she might be so drawn herself.

Later, she would write in her memoirs that it seemed that Atlantis had somehow called out to them, inexplicably, from the deeps, though none of them recognized the call for what it was. Does a swallow recognize the call that draws it to its winter home, she wondered now as she stood on the balcony outside her office, gazing over the gleaming towers of Atlantis? Does it have a name for the voice that beckons it north again, in the spring?

Known or unknown, Elizabeth had followed a call and entreated others to follow with her, to find a destiny none of them could expect. The proof that the call had been true lay all around her, and she took a moment to feel all the joy, triumph and gratitude that filled her heart at having answered it.

***

Sitting in the prow of the air launch, Peter happily feasted his eyes on the vision of the city, shining like a brilliant star above the lake where she rested, as the last of the sun's rays winked out and the mirror array gradually grew dark. The word that they had sent out to the various settlements was that the celebrations would begin once the sun had left the array -an open declaration that the dark hours need hold no fear for anyone now.

It was a welcome declaration, but a bold and shockingly revolutionary one all the same. Not everyone was comfortable with traveling during the dark hours, and so Elizabeth had arranged for a sort of 'air launch taxi service' to run between Atlantis and some of the more distant settlements. He'd volunteered to accompany Airman Markham, who'd been drafted to serve as pilot, mainly because he wanted a chance to see just what he was seeing now -the city of Atlantis in all her glory, perched like a jewel in the crown of a lake, high above the vast subterranean sea.

Peter was also thrilled to get a tour of the rest of the great cavern as the launch glided past other settlements and groups of folk making their way to the city along the many various paths and tracks that crossed the cliff face. The groups of revelers all carried small, personal lights, generally made from the 'glow moss' they cultivated for such purposes, and were thus visible as twinkling lines of blue-green in the twilight cavern. The settlements, lit with watch fires as well as glow moss lights and the occasional borrowed mantle lantern, blazed like suns among the lesser constellations of moss patches and Atlantis bound travellers.

This would be the fifth trip that Peter had made with Markham, ferrying passengers from various prearranged pickup points to the city, and now they were heading to their last scheduled pickup, from the highest settlement at the farthest end of the cavern from Atlantis. Living closer to the wraith than any other group, the residents of this settlement were reputed to be secretive and regarded by some with suspicion. It had been something of a surprise when they'd sent a message confirming their attendance at the celebration and asking for transportation help, but Elizabeth had beamed with pride and excitement at the news. Even Teyla had expressed some surprise, and assured them that these folk represented no danger. Mysterious and reclusive they might be, but they were no wraith worshippers -of that she was certain.

Peter had the job of manning the sculling sails this run (they'd taken turns), but it was hardly a chore, as only one or two sculls per minute were necessary to keep the launch moving in the nearly windless cavern. Now, as they drew near the settlement, however, Peter needed to use the sculls to slow the craft as Markham steered them to the pickup point. As with other pickups, there was a small crowd of folk gathered and waiting for them, but unlike other pickups, this crowd was silent. Their silence seemed neither solemn nor hostile but rather reminded Peter of a monastery where the monks had all taken vows not to speak.

They seemed to be dressed like monks too, Peter noted as they drew near enough to see their waiting passengers. All of the roughly twenty or so folk finding their places in the launch wore dull or drab colored clothing and more than half wore dark, charcoal gray hooded cloaks, with hoods so deep their faces were only barely visible in the shadows. Peter thought it just a touch creepy, but they seemed polite enough, and Teyla had vouched for them, after all.

He more or less expected that they'd make the journey in silence, as they begun it, but as Atlantis grew closer the hooded ones began to sing. It was a low, sort of melodic chant, which they passed back and forth between two halves of the group, and while the other passengers didn't sing, they swayed ever so slightly to the rhythm of the chant. It should have been creepy too, Peter thought, but something about the performance set him at ease, though he couldn't for the life of him say why.

They fell silent when the launch pulled into one of the docking spaces in the grand foyer at the base of the tower, and stood as one when the airman waiting there caught the bow line Peter threw and laid the gangway across the gap between the launch and the city. Allowing the other passengers to debark first, the cloaked ones crossed the gangway with dignified poise and gathered in a circle once on the other side. Hands clasped, they bowed their heads until all of their heads touched and remained so for the length of a long breath. They were just standing straight again when Atlantis' welcoming committee arrived.

It was Dr Weir in the lead of course, with Sheppard in his dress uniform and Teyla in finest native garb just behind her, but Peter was surprised to see Ronon at their heels, his eyes glued on the cloaked figures. They were holding back a bit from the group of plainly dressed folk, who'd moved forward to meet Dr Weir, but Ronon ignored that group and strode up to the closest of the cloaked ones, fixing him with a piercing gaze.

"You... you wear Travelers cloaks... You are Travelers?" Ronon said, his tone hesitant -almost disbelieving. The figure said nothing, but bowed his head solemnly.

"Traveller..." Ronon began, his stance changing subtly as he addressed the cloaked figure. "I see we travel the same road... and though we meet as strangers, I think we may be kin." There was something, Peter thought, about the way Ronon spoke those words, as though they were memorised of old, or part of some ritual.

"Kin are kin; all men have them," Peter was surprised to here the cloaked man speak now. "Who would be known by me would be known by their teachers. Make yourself known to me and I will honor you likewise."

Peter saw Ronon swallow hard and blink in something like shock. What, he wondered, could shake the this hardy survivor so? "My teacher was Master Smith Tregath," Ronon said after a moment of hesitation, "and his was Master of Masters, Devahy the Nine Fingered. Under Tregath I began as an apprentice, attained first the rank of Journeyman, and then Specialist. Now I, Specialist Ronon Dex, am known to you."

Peter could not see much of how the cloaked visitors reacted to this speech, but, but they all seemed to stand just a little taller, and the one who'd spoken to Ronon slowly lifted his hands to push his hood back.

"Specialist Dex," he said, "My teacher was Master Vranien, who was himself a student of Tregath the Wise. Under Master Vranien I began as an apprentice and attained the rank of Journeyman, but you, Specialist Ronon Dex the Lost, who are now Ronon Dex the Found, you are his last Specialist... our last Specialist. I, Journeyman Solen, am honored to be known to you as well." His hood now lowered, Peter saw that Solen too wore his hair in a similar fashion to Ronon's, and he too had a small tattoo on his neck, similar to the one Ronon had, though of a slightly different design.

Following Solen's lead, the other cloaked people on the pier lowered their hoods as well, revealing them to be men and women, all with a look reminiscent of Ronon's and Ronon could only stare, wide eyes and mouth agape. By now the scene had caught Elizabeth's attention as well as she came to stand at Ronon's shoulder he seemed to shake himself awake.

"My people..." he managed at last, his voice rough with emotion. "These are my people... and they are not all gone..."

"Indeed, we are not," said Solen. "The Belkan folk have hidden us, forty three in number, for all the long years since our home was destroyed. But as you have thought your people lost, we have thought that the knowledge you hold to be lost to us as well, and thus we may rejoice doubly."

"Your people?" Elizabeth repeated with amazement. "They are survivors from your settlement? Ronon, that's wonderful!"

"Forty three of them," Ronon said, sounding as if he could scarcely believe it himself. "There are forty three of my people still alive... I am not alone..."

With those words the group of cloaked figures, coalesced around Ronon, drawing him into an all encompassing embrace. Peter was grinning as he stepped off the launch, and exchanged a happy glance with Dr Weir.

"Tie her up, gentlemen," she said to him and Markham. "That was your last run and there's food and drink aplenty inside."

"Yes ma'am!" Markham replied snappily, making the launch fast with a stern line and then joining Peter on the pier. They all walked together toward the stairs which lead up to the great hall on the second floor where the festivities were taking place.

There was an astonishing variety of food and drink on the three long tables set up at the borders of the hall -both of local origin and from their own kitchens, made of the foodstuffs brought in on the Daedalus. Before there was to be any eating and drinking, however, Teyla lead them all in a brief ceremony, offering up thanks for their victory over the wraith and remembering those who had given their lives in that battle.

As the ceremony concluded, a group of local musicians struck up a tune, clearly intended for dancing. A number of dancers -mainly locals. but a few daring expedition members too- made their way to the center dance floor the moment the music started, but most folk, including Peter, addressed themselves to the food and drink first. Though the guests gathered in the hall numbered close to two hundred, Peter guessed, there was a sufficient abundance of food and drink spread out on the three tables that no one had to wait too long to serve themselves.

Looking for an open spot as he made his way back to the tables with a plate heaped high with delicacies, both familiar and unfamiliar, Peter was pleased to see Lindsey Novak sitting near a couple of unoccupied seats and made his way there. Her endearingly shy smile widened to one of real pleasure when she saw Peter approach, and she beckoned him over, much to his delight. Peter had taken real pleasure in drawing out the Daedalus' quietly brilliant engineer during their voyage here, and found that he'd begun to miss her in the time that he'd been on the city while she remained on the ship, and determined to spend more time with her now.

Passing the time with Lindsey was just as pleasant as Peter had hoped, and together they dared each other to try various unfamiliar native foods and drinks -some fairly intoxicating. After two glasses of something that seemed a cross between beer and wine, they were both willing to try a dance or two, and when they retired, gigging infectiously, to their table, they were treated to a unique spectacle -not seen in the Realms Below in living memory.

Everyone watched with curiosity as the dozen or so cloaked men and women he'd helped ferry to the city formed a circle in the center of the hall, then droped their cloaks to reveal outfits of deep, garnet red and black. They then began the most remarkable knife juggling routine that Peter had ever seen. Halling, who was conveniently seated across from them, explained the story of Ronon's people to Lindsey as they watched, and her eyes widened in amazement as she heard the tale of the Sataedan's remarkable survival.

More musicians came to play when the Sataedans finished (to thunderous applause) and Peter enticed Lindsey onto the dance floor again. They nearly collided with Elizabeth and Carson there -all of them having partaken of generous quantities of various sorts of drink- but the near miss only elicited more laughter in both couples.

Peter did not think he'd ever seen Elizabeth Weir in any state of intoxication before, but this evening her cheeks were flushed and her smile wide and unrestrained. If her step was less than steady, Peter saw that Carson held her close and secure, and Elizabeth relaxed contentedly in his arms. It was good to see her thus supported, Peter thought, and though his had been the job of supporting her in her work, for many years, he'd often thought it a pity that she had no one in her personal life to do the same.

No doubt there were those who thought that Peter would be that person, and Peter had asked himself if he might be more than once, but though he had been happy to devote most of his life to being Elizabeth Weir's 'good right hand' he'd never felt the urge to be anything more. For as long as he had known her, Peter had thought of her as something like an older sister, or a particularly loving aunt, but never a partner. Seeing the open affection in Carson Beckett's eyes as he moved with Elizabeth across the dance floor filled Peter with joy for both their sakes.

As for himself, well, Peter thought, as he and Lindsey swayed past the sweets table, it was possible that Elizabeth might have seen in his eyes what he'd seen in Carson's, and maybe it was high time for him as well. Arm slung around her waist, Peter pulled Lindsey Novak closer to him as they carried their desserts back to their table and when he looked up to meet her eyes he did see affection there, as well as a question. He wasn't exactly sure what the question was, however, until Halling ended up raising it.

"I understand that your ship, the Daedalus, will be leaving us for a time soon," he said, "but that many of you will be staying, to make a home in the city of the Ancient Ones. Do you know how many that will be?"

"I'm not sure, exactly," Peter said. "Mainly, it will be the crew of the Daedalus, like Lt Novak here, who will have to remain with the ship when it goes, and I expect that the Marines will be stationed here, for some tour of duty. The scientists and other civilians, however will have a choice, of going or staying -though I imagine most will stay here. There's so much to learn and discover, after all."

"I take it you will be staying here, then?" Halling asked. Peter opened his mouth to answer in the affirmative, almost without thinking, but then hesitated, seeing Lindsey's gaze drop suddenly. She had no choice, it dawned on him gradually, but he did, and now, suddenly, Peter Grodin realized that his priorities had changed.

"I, um... I'll have to discuss it with Dr Weir," he said eventually, "but I'm thinking about how useful it might be to have someone from the civilian-science field stay with the Daedalus -as long as she'll be going back and forth between Realms Above and Below- to represent the the scientists here with the SPB and other government authorities. I mean, I know Captain Caldwell can carry messages, and bring in the supplies that we ask for, but..."

"But he's no scientist, and if the SPB needs anything explained, or wants to give you some sort of alternative supplies, he won't have any idea," Lindsey filled in, her eyes bright with excitement... and possibly also something more personal. "That's not a bad idea at all. I bet Dr Weir will go for it immediately."

"Possibly," Peter nodded. "I just thought of it a second ago," he said, a little sheepishly.

"Because..." Lindsey's gaze met his briefly before she looked down again. "Because you'd really rather stay here...?"

Peter shook his head. "No, because I'm just a bit dense, and... and it's taken me until just this minute to realize that... while living in Atlantis would be amazing, I think I'd much rather be wherever you are."

"Really?" Lindsey's eyes were back on his, wide with astonishment, and Peter found himself reaching for her hands, to hold in his. "Peter... really?"

"Honestly, Lindsey," Peter said, trying for his most earnest look. "We've all had a lot on our minds recently, but seeing you -spending time with you- this last couple of days... It's rather cast everything in a new light. You... are my new light, Lindsey Novak."

"Oh!" said Lindsey, looking a bit stunned, but lovely nonetheless. So lovely, in fact, that Peter found it quite impossible not to lean forward and kiss her. Luckily, he found his gesture to be most welcome indeed.

***

Little by little, the party was winding down, and Radek Zelenka found himself winding down too. He still wasn't sure if he would ever be able to develop a taste for the locals' strange idea of an alcoholic beverage -nor if he wanted to- but it did get the job done, and he was feeling pleasantly mellow now, after more than a handful of servings. Rodney looked to be in a similar state, slouching against the table beside him at a slight yet slowly increasing list.

Ronon, Radek observed, was doing more than listing slightly, but he seemed to be in very good company. More than a few of his fellow Sateadans were in various stages of drunkenness, but Teyla was with them now, arranging a room for them to spend the night. Radek watched with amusement as the Sataedans apparently failed to understand the directions she was giving them, several times, until Stackhouse came to her rescue, and offered to guide them personally. He was just as drunk as Ronon, but he knew the city pretty well by now, and probably wouldn't get them all lost.

Sheppard and Lorne came up behind Teyla as she watched them go, both more than a little 'handsy' with the Athosian woman, what with the lateness of the hour, the decreasing number of witnesses, and the degree to which they too were feeling the effects of the local beverages. Radek had presumed the presence of some sort of 'love triangle' watching the three of them over the past few weeks, and dreaded the inevitable consequences when one of them was rejected, but now he began to perceive the situation differently. Radek was, himself, a man of the world, and had seen such relationships managed successfully, back in his student days in Prague, though they were not common. He had no use whatsoever for those who condemned such things as 'immoral', and doubted that few, if any, from the expedition would espouse such opinions.

"Is that..." Rodney said, words slurring only slightly as he watched the trio move -propelled by Teyla- toward the dance floor. "Is that what I think it is?"

"And what do you think it is?" Radek asked, needling.

"Well, I knew Sheppard had something going with Lorne," Rodney said, pushing himself up a little to observe. "Then I thought maybe Lorne had something going with Teyla, but... They can't all be together, can they?"

"And why not?" Radek asked, eyebrows raised.

"It hardly seems fair, to me," Rodney replied. "Teyla's gone and grabbed the two hottest guys in the expedition all for herself."

"No? You think so?" Radek said, running an openly provocative hand up Rodney's thigh. "I disagree."

"Yeah, but you're a freak," Rodney said affectionately, smiling so that Radek's heart skipped a beat, in spite of the precision machinery that was meant to prevent just that.

"Come," Radek said, standing and taking Rodney's hand to pull him up. "The musicians will finish soon; the hour is late, and if it is acceptable for them to dance," he indicated Teyla and her two consorts, "then it is acceptable for us."

"What? No!" Rodney said, resisting, but not terribly effectively. "I don't dance... not even a little!"

Radek tisked, dragging Rodney relentlessly toward the dance floor. "Nesmysl! When you have drunk as much as we have, anyone can dance. See?" He indicated Sheppard, who seemed to be stumbling artfully, mostly in rhythm to the music, along with his two dance partners.

The musicians were Athosian, and as such wouldn't know a waltz from a tango from a highland fling, but fortunately, Radek thought, the number three is a fundamental mathematical constant, and the three beat, moderate tempo tune they were playing now was perfect for a slow waltz. Rodney stumbled and dragged a bit a first, and Radek had to lead, in spite of the fact that Rodney was taller. Still, someone had to have taught the man to dance (possibly the nuns, but Radek didn't want to think about that at all) and eventually Rodney began to move with the music, and with Radek, and this was what he had wanted.

Holding Rodney McKay in his arms, their bodies moving with and against each other to the gentle rhythms of the music, Radek felt the joy of everything that had bought them together. He felt Rodney relax against him, his cheek resting against Radek's temple, and immersed himself in the simple sensuality of their dance. It is the nature of dance, Radek knew, that it caused one to focus on the moment alone, leaving the concerns of the past and future behind, dismissing everything but the present -its joys and perfection. It was no easy thing, for men such as they, to set all their figures and inventions aside and dwell in such a moment, and Radek felt it all the more precious for that.

The song ended and the musicians began another, of similar tempo and meter, and Rodney pulled himself together enough to lead, which made Radek love him all the more. At the conclusion of this song, however, the musicians declared themselves done for the evening -which was, in point of fact, morning anyhow- and packed up. Radek and Rodney looked around to see that they, along with Sheppard, Teyla and Lorne, were among only a handful of guests remaining.

"Time to call it a night, I guess," Sheppard said, stretching as he scrubbed his hand over the back of his neck.

"So it would seem," Radek said. "I suppose I should wish you 'sladke sny' -sweet dreams- and see you in the morning?"

"Well, I'm afraid it's already morning," Lorne said.

"That it is," Teyla acquiesced, "so I will also wish you sweet dreams, and look forward to seeing you all later today."

"What she said," said Rodney, yawning hugely. Now Radek was, at last, feeling the weight of his labors of the last several days as well, and finally feeling ready to accept sleep. Rodney's yawn infected him with one of his own, and now he wanted nothing more than to find himself somewhere soft and horizontal. Sleep would take him, he knew, the moment he did.

The five of them made their way together, all swaying slightly, toward the residential tower, but they parted company at the lift. Exiting the conveyance on their floor, Rodney paused a moment to look out the wide bay windows in the lift vestibule, which offered a properly arresting view of the illuminated city. As much as he longed for sleep, Radek could not fault him, for he found the view just as compelling. This, after all, was what they had fought for, all these weeks, and now it was theirs -their new home, in fact.

Home... the word resonated in Radek's mind, calling forth images of the very few places he associated with that word. There'd been the fine, large country home he'd known as a child, whose sad ending -a fire accidentally started by his little brother- still haunted him. The cramped and grimy 'školník' flat they'd moved to afterward, in the basement of the village school, had never seemed like home, though when he'd finally left that place to come attend university in Prague, the whole city felt like home to him within days of his arrival.

Coming to Atlantis, Radek realized now, had felt just the way coming to Prague had felt, marvelous, mysterious, frightening, challenging, and inexplicably welcoming. Young and madly distracted in love, Radek and Nikola had squandered the freedoms and opportunities of their home in Prague, and disaster had followed. Now, here he was, older and hopefully wiser, once again finding himself in another marvelous and precarious home, and once again in love. He hoped with all his heart that they would be wise enough to keep this home, and he knew deep down in his heart that he would fight with everything he had for her sake. He was fairly sure Rodney felt the same, and he saw it now in Rodney's eyes as he gazed out over the fantastical city that he loved no less than Radek.

Radek leaned against his lover, wrapping an arm around his waist, and Rodney mirrored the gesture with an arm over Radek's shoulder. They stood in contented silence for a spell, drinking in the vision before them.

"Jeannie says she's going with the Daedalus," Rodney said after a time. "They're getting married -her and Caldwell, I mean."

"Indeed, I thought things might go that way," Radek said. "It's good news."

"Yeah, I guess, if it makes her happy," Rodney said philosophically. "They're planning some big church wedding in Boston."

"Surely not a Catholic wedding?" Radek asked.

"No, no, thank... whatever," Rodney said with a grimace. "Caldwell's family are all old time Unitarians... who are almost bearable. I mean, they're at least mainly rationalist, even if they do still seem to insist on believing in God. Anyhow, Jeannie says she'll understand if I can't attend, and that maybe she'll have a better chance at getting along with her new in-laws if I don't." Radek gave a snort of laughter.

"She does have a point there," he said. "I must remember to congratulate them both before they go. Will she stay in Boston after, and work for the SPB, or travel on the Daedalus with Caldwell?"

"Not sure," Rodney said, gazing into the distance. "Dunno if she knows either, yet."

"Come," Radek said, tugging Rodney away from the view. "We cannot sleep standing here, and we will if we do not move soon."

Rodney acquiesced with a grunt and the two of them made it to Rodney's quarters without any further interruptions. They didn't even bother to turn on the light once inside, but undressed with careless expediency and all but tumbled into the bed. Radek felt himself sinking into welcome unconsciousness even as his head came to rest on the pillow, and then he felt a warm hand come to rest on his chest, fingers splayed over the apparatus that could be easily felt beneath his thin under-vest.

"You're staying, aren't you?" he heard Rodney ask out of the dark, his voice revealing the vulnerability he normally strove to keep hidden.

"Of course," Radek said, laying his own hand over Rodney's.

"'S dangerous here," Rodney said, as though it were a fearful confession... and an apology of sorts.

"It is dangerous everywhere, miláčku," Radek replied. "I choose Atlantis, not because it is more or less dangerous than anywhere else, but because you are here... and it is my home now."

"Okay," Rodney said, though it was as much as sigh of relief as it was a word.

Radek reached forward to place a gentle kiss on Rodney's temple, then rolled on his side to spoon up against his lover's chest. Rodney's hand remained where it was, over Radek's heart, but Radek could feel him relax around him as he gradually dropped off to sleep. Comfortably enclosed in his lover's protecting embrace, Radek closed his eyes and followed him into slumber.

***

"You say these are made in the image of a living creature from the Realms Above?" Teyla asked as she examined the life sized orlub in her hands.

The one inconvenience of both her and Peter Grodin going on the Daedalus, Jeannie had realized that morning, was that neither of them would be able to continue running the new 'orlub-post' system that they'd just set up. She'd brought the issue up with Dr Weir over breakfast... or rather 'brunch', and the expedition leader had suggested training Teyla, who might suggest another of the locals to assist her.

"The system is mainly intended for the benefit of those living here, in the Realms Below," Elizabeth had pointed out. "Having it run by a local seems the best way to assure that it serves them in the way that is best for them."

Teyla had taken to the idea immediately, and she and Jeannie had gone directly after their meal to the upper level balcony where she and Peter Grodin had set up Atlantis' 'orlub postal hub'.

"One of Dr Zelenka's guiding philosophies, as an inventor," Jeannie answered her momentary student, "is that even the smartest scientist in the world must admit that he is not such a clever inventor as nature." _'I could never in a million years invent something so marvelous as a pigeon,'_ he'd told her once, and Jeannie could see his point.

"That seems wise," Teyla said. "But I cannot imagine that it is so easy to recreate nature, as he has done here. This machine is modeled after a living creature, and yet it does not live -else the wraith would take it. How then is it able to motivate itself, to move and function, without the energy of life?"

"Oh, it's quite an achievement, you're right about that," Jeannie said with undisguised admiration. "What powers the little orlubs, and the big one too, are crystals of moldavite... Here, you can see it by shifting these 'feathers' aside like so..."

Jeannie moved the perfectly crafted brass components on the orlub's feathered chest, to reveal a small, transparent window, beyond which could be seen a small cluster of faintly glowing, greenish crystals, about the size of her little fingernail.

"Oh!" Teyla exclaimed, eyes wide as she marveled at the sight. "And what are these crystals? Where do they come from?"

Jeannie frowned for a moment in thought, knowing that this was one secret which Radek had shared with a handful of people only, and for good reason. Still, Teyla was as trustworthy as anyone Jeannie had ever met, and it was also highly unlikely that she would ever visit the Realms Above, where the secret was much more dangerous.

"It's a mineral, found only in the lands surrounding Dr Zelenka's home," she said at last, "and its origins are... somewhat mysterious. It's generally said to have originated from a meteorite -something that fell to Earth from space- but Radek is the only one who's ever learned how to draw power from them. He's had to keep it secret, because of the... political situation in his native country."

Teyla didn't seem to be listening anymore though, Jeannie noticed, only nodding absently as she finished speaking, and continuing to gaze at the little glowing crystal at the orlub's heart.

"I must speak to Dr Zelenka," Teyla said suddenly, looking up from the device at last. "There is something I must tell him, something I believe he should know about these crystals."

“What, are they dangerous?” Jeannie asked, orlub still clutched in one hand as she followed Teyla back into the control room. “I’m pretty sure Dr Zelenka’s been working with them for years…”

“I have not heard of any danger associated with them, no,” Teyla said, glancing about to control room and spotting Zelenka, along with her brother, Dr Weir and Stephen, in the conference room. “But I believe I may know something important about them… about their origin.”

Jeannie had no idea what to think about that, and so only followed Teyla to the transparent door of the conference room and waited as she knocked. Jeannie thought she remembered hearing that they would be discussing requisitions and supplies –an important if boring task- and she could see Rodney scowl at the interruption. It was Dr Weir who opened the door.

“Yes, Teyla,” she said. “How can we help you?”

“Forgive the interruption, please,” Teyla said, “but I must ask something of Dr Zelenka… or rather, I believe I have some important information for him… if I am correct about the nature of the crystals he is using to power his flying machines.”

Radek turned away from the table, hearing these words, and faced Teyla, his expression both interested and wary. “What would you have me know about them?” he asked.

“These small green crystals,” Teyla said, taking the orlub from Jeannie and indicating the revealed heart of the mechanism to Zelenka. “They truly power your machines?”

The Czech inventor glanced down at his invention, then back at Teyla, nodding in confirmation. “The crystals are of moldavite,” he said. “A rare mineral formation found in certain parts of my country, and nowhere else in the world. Some years ago Nikola and I learned how to extract power from them, but the mineral is so rare, we kept our process a secret.”

“And what do you know of the origin of these crystals?” Teyla asked, insistent. Radek raised his eyebrows at her question.

“Very little, in truth,” Radek said. “There has been for some long time a theory that they are a type of tektite, and were originally part of a meteorite, but we have no way to prove it.”

“And did it not strike you,” Teyla asked, “that there are some slight similarities between these crystals and the Star’s Heart?”

Zelenka shrugged. “They are both crystalline in appearance,” he said, “and some parts of the Star’s Heart bear a similar color to moldavite, but these things seem most probably coincidental.” This made sense to Jeannie, but Teyla was shaking her head.

“It is my belief that they are not,” Teyla said, “and I would like to tell you why.”

“I would certainly like to hear why,” Elizabeth said, though Rodney, naturally, looked highly skeptical.

“Fine,” he huffed, gesturing Teyla toward a seat as ungraciously as possible. “I could use a little entertainment about now.”

Teyla ignored his rudeness, but took a seat all the same. “When Jinto told me about the power room he had seen,” she began her tale, “he confirmed a part of the story I was taught –that there are… receptacles for three Star’s Hearts at the heart of the city of the Ancient Ones. You have all seen this for yourselves as well, I suppose?” Rodney and Radek, the only two who had seen it, nodded in confirmation.

“Two were empty, when we found it,” Radek said, “and one contained the old, nearly expired power unit.”

“Just so,” said Teyla. “The tale I was taught speaks of this third Star’s Heart, and of the origin of the Ancient Ones. When I first heard this history, and was told that the Ancient Ones’ first home was ‘beyond the stars’, it was necessary to explain what the stars were, and what it meant that the Ancient Ones came from beyond them. For you, I imagine that this concept is not so difficult.”

“Indeed, not,” Elizabeth answered. “And we’ve heard other tales which suggest the same thing.”

“Then I expect you have also heard of how the Ancient Ones fancied themselves masters of all the Realms Above, in those days,” Teyla continued, “and how, in their arrogance, thought to find themselves masters of all the Realms Below as well, and thus precipitated their own downfall.” Heads nodded all around the table. Even Stephen had been briefed on this particular history.

“In preparation for their descent, the tale was told to me,” Teyla went on after a pause, “the wisest of the Ancient Ones determined that those vessels of power which gave energy to their city –enough to carry it between the stars- were too powerful to be allowed to fall into the hands of their enemy. Thus they removed two, leaving the city with only enough power to endure the long years ahead with great restriction. Of the two they removed, one, as is well known, was given into the hands of my ancestors for safe keeping, and was eventually passed to your grandfather,” Teyla nodded to Elizabeth, “but the other was meant to be sent much farther away, to dwell among the stars themselves. I say it was meant, but the Ancient Ones did not succeed in their intention.”

“What, they tried to send it into space?” Rodney asked. “Or into orbit around Earth?”

“Unfortunately, I do not know what either of these things are,” Teyla said, “and in the end, it does not matter, for the third Star’s Heart, according to this tale, did not achieve its goal, but fell back to the Earth, and shattered as it fell, into countless fragments, scattered over the land.”

At these words Jeannie saw Dr Zelenka draw an astonished breath, murmuring an soft epithet in his mother tongue.

“In its conclusion, the tale tells us that to most who saw them these fragments would seem only useless baubles,” Teyla said, “but to those with the wit to know treasure from dross, the fragments would reveal secrets of great power, and eventually bring that one to answer the call to bring them all home.”

There was a pause the length of a long breath before Rodney, predictably, exploded.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” he snapped. “Of all the ridiculously, coincidental, fairy tale explanations…”

“Ne, ne, it makes sense, McKay,” Radek retorted immediately. “Tesla came to Prague researching the moldavite crystals; it is how we met. They called him as surely as they called me. And it was my work with the crystals that forced me to stay in touch with the scientific world, when I would have withdrawn completely. I became known to you, and to Dr Weir because of the moldavite, and in the end, that is how I came here.”

“Wait,” said McKay, still sounding testy. “You never published a word about moldavite, just about low power electrical engines.”

“Of course not!” Radek replied. “Can you imagine what would happen if the world were to discover that my country is filled with countless, tiny, energy producing devices, free for the taking?”

Jeannie could, and it made her mouth go dry. Europe was already teetering on the brink of war, and this… but Teyla, of course, was completely mystified.

“Forgive me,” she said, glancing around at everyone’s expressions of dismay. “But this is an area about which, I am afraid, I know nothing.” Radek shook himself to look up and meet her eyes.

“Of course,” he said. “In the Realms above, my country is small and poorly defended. We are the protectorate of an aging, decadent empire whose power is waning, and surrounded by ambitious, powerful enemies. To reveal that such a treasure exists on our lands..."

Teyla frowned, a puzzled crease forming on her forehead. "Surely," she said, aghast, "your own neighbors would not prey upon you for the sake of mere treasure?"

Rodney gave a cynical snort at this, though Elizabeth just looked sad and Stephen frowned unhappily. 

"Of course, I would never wish such a plague as the wraith upon the people of the Realms Above," Radek said after a moment. "But it is also true that it forced an important truth upon you, the peoples of the Realms Below. In having an undeniable, common enemy, you see each others' commonalities quite clearly. Without such a scourge, the lands of the Realms above too frequently find reason to make war upon each other -quite often trivial and foolish reasons. Such small treasures as may be found in my lands would serve as more than sufficient reason for our neighbors -who speak in a different language, have a different history and follow a different ruler- to come to our towns and villages in force, take what they please, and ruin what they fancy. They do not see us as the same people at all, you see, and destroying us would be no more to them than to the wraith."

Hearing Radek state things so plainly made Jeannie feel slightly ashamed, though she could not say why, unless it was at seeing the look of horror and pity of Teyla's face as she slowly shook her head.

"Indeed, you are not wrong to say that our people have learned to see the things that lie in common between those we know and those we come to know," she said after a moment. "It occurs to me now that the folk in the Realms Above must live in daily fear, little different from that which we know in our lives -though the beings we fear may be different, no doubt the fear is the same."

"Fear for our lives and loved ones is something all men and women know, no matter where or how they live," Elizabeth answered her. "I imagine the folk of the Realms Below must have conceived of our Realms as something of a paradise, just as we imagined we might find when we came, hoping to find the city of the Ancient Ones."

"Such are the hopes that drive us all, in our youths," said Radek sadly. "And such is the sobering truth that leads us to wisdom, as we grow older."

"As true as your words may be, Dr Zelenka," Elizabeth replied, "I am not content to leave the great potential that lies in your discoveries about the moldavite crystals to be held hostage by the Prussians. Surely there must be some way to make use of them while avoiding the repercussions to your country."

"I share your desires most profoundly, Dr Weir," Zelenka said, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture. "For, as you have seen, my finest inventions -the orlubs- I have had to keep secret these past years. I would like nothing better than to be able to manufacture many more of them, and it pains me to think of the services they could provide to the world, if only they could be kept to peaceful uses."

"Well, you can make and use as many as you want here," Jeannie pointed out. "In fact, our new postal system could probably use a half dozen more little orlubs to be as efficient as possible."

"And, if it is widely known that the power source comes from elsewhere," Teyla added, "there is no chance that the technology will be misused, for no one would be able to copy these machines on their own."

"Indeed not..." said Elizabeth, a deeply thoughtful look crossing her features.

"What?" said Rodney and Zelenka, in a near perfect chorus.

"As above, so below," Elizabeth said cryptically, in a quiet, wondering voice. "It should have been the motto of our expedition. Radek, what if the situation Teyla just described was reversed? If it was widely known that the power source for your inventions came from the Realms Below? Even if the machines themselves were manufactured in Europe, but it was understood that 'power crystals' had to be brought from here?"

"But that is not the case..." Radek replied, confused. "It is well known that moldavite is found only in our lands..."

"Yeah, but who knows that they can be a power source?" Stephen interjected. "And who _would_ know, if you sealed your power source -made it a sort of 'black box'?"

"Only Nikola Tesla knows of these properties, besides me," said Radek, still sounding confused. "My housekeeper, Josef, knows that I am buying moldavite from whoever finds it, and that I pay a higher price than most, but he does not know why."

"A black box, of course!" Rodney said now, snapping his fingers. "That's perfect -better still if we seal it with a warning of dire, possibly explosive consequences, if the seal is broken."

Now Jeannie was starting to get the picture, and so, it seemed, was Zelenka. Frowning, his brows drawn together over his spectacles, he seemed to be thinking the matter over.

"You would hide the truth, the true nature of moldavite, in a cloak of lies," he said at last. "And have it known that its origin is here, where it is beyond the reach even of the Kaiser?"

"Or the Confederacy, or the British, or anyone else who would use the power to evil ends," Elizabeth stated adamantly.

"And it's a very plausible lie," Rodney added. "Actually, considerably more believable than the truth."

Radek sat back, fingering his chin as the wheels turned. "Something of what we have discovered here must be made known," he said, considering.

"It will be," Elizabeth replied. "Not everything, but it was always my intention to let it be known if we did discover what we hoped to here. The world should know that the Lost City of Atlantis exists, and I intend to tell them."

"There must be highly secure transport, between here and Europe," Radek pointed out. "And it will be a target for pirates, privateers, and every sort of bandit."

"It will be," Stephen answered him, "but it's nothing the US Lighter than Air Fleet can't manage. We're by far the dominant air power in the world, and we mean to stay that way."

Radek nodded slowly. "I have already acquired quite a stockpile of moldavite crystals," he said, "and I have been very quiet about it. I believe that Josef is trustworthy enough that he may be brought in on some part of the operation, and some members of his family as well, so that our buying operation may be expanded, without giving anything away."

"Good!" said Elizabeth approvingly. "That's perfect. Ladies and gentlemen, I think we may be able to pull this off."

"It goes against my nature, to be the perpetrator of such a fiction," Radek said, "but I have learned too many hard lessons about the nature of power not to understand the necessity. We will change the world under the protection of this lie, my friends, and for the better, I do believe."

Thus it was that Jeannie and Peter Grodin spent the next day and a half, before the Daedalus departed, learning a few basic phrases in Czech and taking the names of various trustworthy Bohemian and Moravian industrialists. It would take some time before the full magnitude of what they were about to do came home to them, and much longer still before the larger world became acquainted with changes that were about to be visited upon it, but that is the nature of revolutionary change, after all.

The larger world remained in ignorance still on the day that Jeannie McKay was wedded to Captain Stephen Caldwell in Boston Massachusetts. The Caldwell Family was a relatively prominent one in Boston, necessitating a relatively prominent wedding, and the very public airing of the bride's family and background. Thus it was from that event that the world came to learn more personal events of the rediscovery of the Ancient City of Atlantis, but the first contracts had already been signed in Prague by then, and the work was underway. The future was coming, and world would know it soon.


	14. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 

By the time the Daedalus returned five months later, laden with victuals, metal stock, a crane to lift the fallen portions of the mirror array off the sea floor and lumber to build a platform for it to sit on, along with various other vital supplies, the foundations had been laid for factories in Zlin, Moravia as well as Scranton, Pennsylvania, and newspapers around the world were carrying the first stories about the amazing discoveries of the Atlantis Expedition. The Daedalus brought copies of some of those papers, as well as blueprints for the factories and commendations from the US president. There was also mail.

Dr Weir received a legal notice that she was being sued by Edison for the return of the Star's Heart, but it came as no surprise and less worry. Besides news about the expedition, the papers also carried several stories about Maybourne's trial and his confession that he'd been hired by Edison to steal the Star's Heart from Dr Weir. Given that news, it was clear that the suit had no merit and would eventually be thrown out.

The Czech newspapers that Peter Grodin brought for Dr Zelenka were (after the news of the discovery of Atlantis by their famous local recluse) filled with optimistic enthusiasm over the factories planned for a region of the country which had suffered much economic depredation of late. He read similar sentiments in his letters from Josef, who also communicated his pleasure at being trusted with the task of very quietly acquiring further supplies of moldavite. He'd been told only that it was more important than was generally known, and that this fact was to remain a secret, and was content to know this much and no more.

The Daedalus would remain for a month, and in that time she took part in a more detailed survey of the larger cavern, and helped move Ronon's people -the Sataedans- to a new home within Atlantis, where they would be safest from the wraith, and could easily find facilities to once again take up their traditional craft of knife making. Ronon was more than pleased to see a community of his people thriving after thinking them lost for so long, but in the end elected to stay with the soldiers he had befriended during their escape from the wraith nest, and continued to find satisfaction as a member of Sheppard's exploration team.

All of the teams Sheppard had set up had had great successes in the months that the Daedalus had been gone. Sheppard's own team had helped foster friendly relationships with several of the more remote settlements, and had also discovered a number of labs and work areas in the city. Of course they'd also accidentally released a giant, carnivorous sort of spider like creature, and found a machine that made them all hallucinate everyone turning into talking plants for twenty four hours, but they'd managed to survive these crises and others besides, and so figured that they were doing okay, all things considered.

The day before the Daedalus was to leave again -this time to be gone for six months- Carson Beckett asked Captain Caldwell to perform a wedding for himself and Elizabeth Weir. A going away party had been planned already, and Carson and Elizabeth figured that this would be just one more thing to celebrate. The wedding was performed in the grand foyer at the top of the central tower. Elizabeth wore a beautiful, white, spider silk gown made for her in the traditional Athosian fashion, and Carson wore a traditional kilt, which he'd kept carefully hidden from all his friends until the moment he appeared for the wedding.

The celebration following was their biggest and best yet, and the Daedalus' departure the next day brought tears but also a sense of hope and expectations. _'The world is still a precarious place,'_ Radek wrote in the journal he now had real reason to hope his nephew would read some day, _'but the work we do here will make it a better place. For the first time in my life I am sure of this.'_

It dawned on Radek, as he watched the Daedalus make her way up, disappearing into the tunnel to the surface, that his nephew and sister might even be free to acknowledge their own true identities some day, and might even, at some future time, be allowed to visit him, here on Atlantis. Radek was less sure about returning to his own native land, however. The question plagued him until Rodney badgered him into confessing what was troubling him, and then gave him the answer that set his mind, and heart, at ease.

"There's a good chance that I'll actually need to go back up to deal with some SPB business, or other nonsense," he told Radek, "but they won't keep me there. This, here, is the only real home I've ever known, and there's no way I'm leaving it."

At these words Radek felt his own heart contract painfully for a brief moment, at the realization that his beloved Bohemia was no longer his home, but the moment passed, and left in its wake a sense of deepest contentment. "Ano," he said after a moment. "Yes, Atlantis is my home as well, and I think I will have no other."

Rodney looked at him curiously for a moment, from where he stood on their balcony. "You sound like you're sorry about that," he said.

"Ne, ne," Radek said, shaking his head. "Perhaps, for a moment... my homeland... can have a tight hold on a man's heart, but this place... not even Prague, Queen of Europe, can compete with her." He turned to Rodney then, moving to stand close enough to feel the warmth of his body, comforting in the cool, night air.

"And, of course, also you are here," he said, "and most assuredly, wherever you are will always be home to me, for as long as I live."

"There is that," said Rodney with an indulgent smirk, which softened a moment later when he continued. "And... you know... the same, um, goes for me, too."

"Of course I know," Radek said, leaning up for a kiss. "I am a genius, after all."

Rodney's lips were smiling when they met his, and Radek could not help feel as if the city, spread out around them, crystal towers gleaming gleaming over a vast subterranean sea, was not watching their kiss, her own crystal heart basking in the light of true love, just as his did.

~**THE END**~


End file.
